


Challenged

by dormiensa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humour, M/M, Romance, Snark, post—hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormiensa/pseuds/dormiensa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a fun exercise to keep my draco-muse occupied and, therefore (hopefully), out of trouble, I asked my LJ f-list for prompts.  And here is the compilation of the responses to their funny and challenging scenarios!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For y3llowdaisi3s

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive any SPaG errors as these have not been beta'd. I was also too lazy to come up with titles. The stories are being posted in the order that their corresponding prompt(s) was received.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pairing: draco/hermione

Diagon Alley was always noisy. 

 

Somehow, though, it seemed even noisier than on a very busy, bustling day.  Hermione should know: she’d made the mistake one year of trying to shop for a last-minute gift on Christmas Eve in Diagon Alley.

 

As she headed toward Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, however, the reason for the additional noise became clear: there was a huge fireworks display in front of the shop, the usual multiplying ones, pink Catherine wheels, profane sparklers, and rockets cheerfully lighting up the sky in a multitude of colours.  Surprisingly, the fire-breathing dragons were missing, and when two types of fireworks collided, instead of forming random shapes, they all transformed into different varieties of snakes.  Hermione also noticed that the fireworks were exploding in rhythm to the pair of Chinese drums and cymbals, located on either side of the building, that had been magicked to beat a synchronized, frantic tempo. 

 

Shaking her head and wondering what new antics the twins were up to this time, Hermione bent down to whisper to her daughter to hold tightly onto her hand before they made their way toward the front door and the stream of people entering and exiting. 

 

Standing by the front steps of “Weezies” were its proprietors, dressed in ridiculous Chinese costumes and grinning identical grins as they handed out red, rectangular packets to every child entering the shop. 

 

“Eilwen!  There’s my favourite niece!  I knew you’d be coming today, so I made sure that we stocked up on Drooble’s Gum and your favourite Catch-Me-If-You-Can Gingerbread Toucans.  But while you grab those treats, don’t forget to try the new ones that we have—they are all traditional Chinese treats, all the way from China!  And here, this little packet is for you.  The Chinese call these _hongbao_ and they usually contain something special for little girls and boys.  Make sure you open it before you leave the shop!”

 

“Thank you, Uncle George!  Hi, Uncle Fred!  C’mon, Mummy, I wanna see the new candies!”

 

“You go in with Daddy, Eilwen.  I want to talk to Uncle George for a minute.  Draco, make sure she doesn’t overeat.”

 

“Come, _ma petite chouette_ , let’s see what sorts of treats there are today.”

 

“So, George, I take it that the costumes, red pockets, and excessive cacophony are your gimmicks to promote your new products?”

 

“Can never get anything past you, can we, Hermione?  Yep, it’s Chinese New Year today, so we figured it the best day to introduce our loyal customers to the new treats.  I know you’re not a big fan of sweets, but you really should try the one they call Dragon’s Whiskers.  Delicious!”

 

“All right, but as always, I reserve the right to not like it.  What have you got in the red pockets?”

 

“Oh, mostly those Knut-shaped candies and a list of the new Chinese treats.  But we’ve also slipped in a few discount coupons in some of them.  I don’t know for sure, of course, but I do believe that Eilwen may have gotten one of those _extra lucky_ red pockets.”

 

“Well, we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?  By the way, is Luna here today?”

 

“No, some of the chicks came down with some sort of flu, so she’s tending them.”

 

“Oh dear.  Well, when you get home, could you give her these?”  Hermione handed him two bags of sunflower seed shells.

 

“My, you really go through them, don’t you?”

 

“It’s this pregnancy.  I’m just constantly craving sunflower seeds.”

 

“Well, you know to tell Verity that you get a ten percent discount for your purchase of more seeds.  I’ll make sure Luna gets these shells.  Who knows?  Maybe they are just the cure for the rampant chick-flu.”

 

“I’m sure Luna will find the right cure.  Well, I’d better not take up any more of your promotion time.  Give Luna my regards.  We’ll be back to say our goodbyes.  What on earth—?”

 

There was a sudden flash of light followed by a rumble from within the store.  Shouts and screams accompanied the unusual phenomenon.  Before Fred and George could investigate, they were distracted by a loud roar above them.  Looking up, they saw a sky-blue creature circling and meandering the fireworks.  Traffic along the busy street came to a halt as the crowd gaped, pointed at the creature, or chattered worriedly to one another.

 

“It’s a Chinese Celestial Dragon!” exclaimed Hermione, recalling her many hours spent at the BritishMuseum and reading the reference books in her childhood home.

 

“Flamel’s flaming flatulence!  Wonder who it is!  Never thought they’d transfigure that size!  Fred, crowd control.  And look out for other escaped animals.  I’m getting Luna.”

 

Hermione paused in her admiration of the airborne dragon, watched George Disapparate, and observed Fred’s attempts to calm the crowd.  She then noticed a rabbit hop out of Weezies and Fred chasing after a sheep, two roosters, and a monkey meandering the crowd and exciting comment.  A distraught little boy was chasing after a squealing pig and crying, “Mummy! Mummy!” 

 

A horrible suspicion began to form in Hermione’s mind.  But before she could sort through the sudden idea, she was distracted by a wailing Eilwen clutching at her leg and the appearance of Luna.

 

Luna, in her calm, unflappable demeanour, cast spells to further calm the crowd and to disperse them.  She then began speaking to the dragon.  With George’s help, Fred managed to round up the stray animals and the distressed children to whom they seemed to belong.  The twins hustled their group through the front door.  Before he could close the door on her, Hermione magically grabbed Fred by the shirt-collar and pulled him to her side.

 

“A word, please, Fred Gideon Weasley.”

 

“I swear it was just a small prank to teach the parents a lesson about meddling with kids’ stuff!  We never expected any of them to turn into… that!”  Fred pointed at the dragon that was still roaring and circling overhead.

 

“Did you put the hex on all the red pockets?  And why would you do something like that in the first place?”

 

“Not all; just the ones with the coupons.  The red pockets were meant for the kids, not their parents!  And parents always spoil the fun by opening gifts meant for their kids and then not letting the kids have them.  Mum did that to us all the time.”

 

“So, you thought it’d be funny to have the parents, who were only being responsible adults and checking to make sure there weren’t any of your usual trickery—and they were fully justified in this case—transfigure into one of the Chinese Zodiac animals?  Well, you’re lucky that so far, only _one_ of the larger animals has made an appearance.  I’d love to see how you’d’ve handled a horse or a tiger.  And I guess you conveniently forgot that seeing one’s parent transform into a strange animal would not traumatize the child _at all_.  How long does the hex last?”

 

“Only twenty-hour hours!”

 

“ _Only_?  Did you know that my daughter won’t sleep at night unless her daddy reads to her?  I’ll decide later how you’re going to make it up to her, but right now, I’ve got a transfigured husband to deal with.  You march in there and make sure the other children are all right.”

 

Fred made a grateful and hasty escape as Hermione bent down to gently cup her daughter’s face in her hands and kiss her forehead. 

 

“It’s all right, sweetheart.  Don’t cry, baby.  Did you get to taste any of the new treats?  Did you like any of them?  Uncle George says that you can have any of them that you like for free.”

 

“Mummy, Mummy, Daddy went flash and boom, and then, I couldn’t find him.  I was coming to tell you, but there were so many people in the way.  And there were other people screaming inside Weezies.  And I dropped my bag of Toucans and someone stepped on them.”

 

“Shhh-shhhh!  Mummy’s here.  We’ll get you a new bag.  But first, wipe your nose with this hankie.  Good girl!  Now, do you remember the story I told you about when Daddy was small, one of the teachers turned him into a white ferret because he was being naughty?  Well, do you see that big blue dragon above us?  That’s Daddy.  Uncles George and Fred played a joke on him because he opened your _hongbao_ instead of letting you open it.”

 

“But Daddy says he only wanted to make sure that there wasn’t any trick inside the packet, Mummy!  He promised he’d give it back to me right after.  But then he disappeared!  I grabbed the packet and put it in my pocket before I found you.  Is that really Daddy?  He looks really mad!”  Having gotten over the shock of her ordeal, Eilwen was now giggling at the spectacle of Draco making loops in the air.  Hermione patted her little cheek and sighed in relief. 

 

At that moment, Luna interrupted.  “Hermione, Draco isn’t responding very well to my attempts to calm him down.  He doesn’t recognize me at all.  But maybe you’ll have better luck.  He seems to only respond to Chinese, though, like _Tianlong_ , which is Celestial Dragon, and _leng jing xia lai_ , which means ‘calm down’.”

 

Hermione asked Luna how to command him to go to his parents’ home and armed with that knowledge, she looked up at the dragon and shouted, “ _Tianlong!_ ”

 

The dragon roared and slowed its movements.  It gave her a piercing stare and modified its motions so that it never broke eye contact with her. 

 

Thus encouraged, Hermione commanded him, “ _Tianlong!  Xiang Gong!  Hui dao lao jia!  Wo he nu-er zai zhe li deng ni._ ”

 

The dragon grunted and disappeared.

 

Hermione sighed and thanked Luna, asking her to inform George and Fred that they owed Eilwen a free package with each type of new Chinese treat and that this was only the beginning of the punishment she had in store for them. 

 

“Say goodbye to Auntie Luna, sweetheart.  Now, let’s go see _Memere_ and _Pepere_ and see what they think about Daddy being transfigured into a dragon!”

 

“Yay!”

 

 

*********

_A/N: credit to Ook for the Flamel interjection._

 

_Original prompts:_

_draco/hermione and for sides pairings whatever your muse decides between george/luna, harry/pansy, or harry/blaise_

_red envelopes_  
 _year of the snake_  
 _family portrait_  
 _sunflower_  
 _Dragon dance and Lion dance_

 


	2. For Mihnn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pairing: seamus/pansy

Pansy was incensed.

 

They had only been married one month— _one month!_ —and he was already forgetting about important dates.  The fact that he hadn’t forgotten to leave a note as to his whereabouts did nothing to appease her.   _He was supposed to have been there for her_.  He had promised.  He’d  _known_ that, being an only child, she’d always felt awkward around little children, even those who were kin.  He had  _promised_  he would be with her, show her how to interact with the nieces and nephews in the extended family, give her hints as to how to get into their good graces.  But no, he forgot, and she had to bake biscuits and face his whole clan at her in-laws’  _on her own_. 

 

She’d known about—and, to herself, admittedly admired—the staunch quality of loyalty that all Gryffindors had.  But she had naively assumed that Seamus would transfer that loyalty to  _her_  after they married.  But no.  It seemed that his  _friends_  still had a bigger hold on him than his  _wife_.

 

Well, she had not Sorted into Slytherin to be thus walked over.

 

***

 

When a time-out was called for by the opposing team, Seamus was sure that they were only attempting to delay their inevitable defeat.  But when he saw the reason the time-out was called, his knees threatened to give out under him.

 

Pansy, dressed in her favourite form-fitting green coat with fur-lined hood, was sashaying across the field with a big smile pasted on her face.  In her hands, she carried a big plate of biscuits covered in clingwrap.   _d'anam don diabhal _!_  _He was in trouble.  He’d forgotten about the baking at his mam’s.  And he’d made her face the cartel of children alone.

 

“Hello, boys!  I baked some biscuits!”

 

In typical fashion, Ron was the first to scramble to her side.  “Thanks, Pansy!  Mmm, these are as good as the ones my mum makes!”

 

“My-my, Panse,  _so_  domesticated.”   _Great_ ,  _Malfoy just_ had _to rub it in_.

 

“I think Finnigan still has his work cut out—she’s not barefoot, and while it may be too soon to tell, she doesn’t  _look_  pregnant.”  Zabini quipped.

 

“You’re one to talk, Draco.  I’m surprised Granger allowed you out of doors without your collar.  Guess she’s so assured you won’t run off that she’s stopped bothering.  And I’d like to see  _you_  try and get your Icelandic princess to even step foot  _into_ the kitchen, Blaise.  But perhaps I should give her the hint that you want her to make you a home-cooked meal.  I recall how you  _love_  hakarl.”    

 

Thankfully, the scowling Slytherins stalked off and the appreciation from the rest of his mates—especially Dean—seemed to soothe Pansy’s ire. 

 

But he was wrong.  He’d stupidly thought that being the last in line would be the safest option. 

 

“Here Neville, take the rest of these and share them with the boys.  I’ve got more at home, so just tell the boys to resume battle while I have a quick word with my husband.”

 

Once Neville was out of earshot, Pansy’s fake smile disappeared.  She gave him a pointed look and ground out in an icy voice, “I’ve booked a week of shopping with some of the girls.  So, I  _won’t_  be seeing you at home.  I’m  _sure_  you can fend for yourself.”

 

She Disapparated with a “pop”.

 

***

 

It was midnight.  Pansy sighed as she approached the front door.

 

She’d had a wonderful week with the girls in Milan.  She’d gleefully told the merchants to send their bills directly to Gringotts so that the money could be drawn from her husband’s vault.  Her only regret had been the lost opportunity of seeing him apoplectic with rage when he received the receipts from the goblins.  He always looked like a strawberry with a blond wig when he was in a fit.

 

Still, her enjoyment had not been complete because she could not stop thinking about her wanker of a husband.   _He’s always been a gobdaw_ , his mother had said fondly when she’d arrived alone at the house that day. 

 

No, Seamus was a  _clagnut_.  Pansy couldn’t help but smirk as she thought of her foul-mouthed best friend and his colourful insults.  She wondered if he’d managed to corrupt his uppity Gryffindor spouse or if she’d washed his mouth thoroughly with soap.   

 

As Pansy opened the door, she wondered what sort of lame let-me-make-it-up-to-you-I’m-so-sorry gesture her husband had decided on.  For she knew without any doubt that he would have one ready and would have spent the entire weekend staying put at home and fidgeting, worrying that she might pull one over him and come home early and unanticipated.

 

Pansy gaped.

 

Their living room had been transformed into the beautiful ballroom where they’d held their Bonding ceremony.  She’d always dreamed of a winter wedding, and Seamus had surprised and touched her by proposing that they have the event on Christmas Eve.  He’d reasoned that it was a day he could never forget and that they could use their wedding anniversary as the excuse to have that day all to themselves instead of having to spend it with pesky relatives.

 

Transfixed in admiration and reminiscence, Pansy didn’t hear Seamus approach until she felt his arms around her waist. 

 

“I’m sorry, Panse.  Will—may I have this dance, my lady?”

 

“You may.”

 

Seamus led her to the middle of the room.  The song they’d chosen for their first dance began playing softly.  Pansy sighed and succumbed, resting her head on his chest and feeling his chin against her temple. 

 

When the song ended, Seamus nervously took her hands in his and stammered, “Panse, remember during—during our first dance, you joked about how, of all the gifts I gave you, the five gold rings were your favourite?”  He paused and removed two simple, gold-filigreed bands from his pocket—one he slipped onto the finger that wore his engagement ring and the gold circlet they’d exchanged on their wedding day; the matching one he nestled beside his own gold band.  The filigree rings were the promise rings he’d bought and presented on their two-year dating anniversary.  He kissed both her hands and then reached into his pocket again. 

 

Taking out a simple velvet case, he opened it to reveal a gold ring that transformed into a Celtic love knot on a gold chain at first touch.  This he clasped around her neck.  “There’s a special Summoning Charm on it.  It’s spelled so that, once a month, you can use it to call me to wherever you are, for whatever reason.  And there’s a Slug-vomiting Charm that activates on me within ten minutes if I don’t appear.”

 

Pansy’s anger melted away completely.  But she refused to let him off so easily.  She raised an elegant brow and asked, “I take it you took your sob-story to Granger and convinced her to help you with all this?”

 

Seamus grinned, not at all put out by her snark.  Damn the man, but he knew her too well.  It was quite irritating how Gryffindors got under one’s skin. 

 

Seamus knew that he could never win the war of wits, so he quickly diverted her with a searing kiss.  He couldn’t hold back a grunt of glee when she responded. 

 

Carrying her, bridal-style, to their bedroom, he peppered her with kisses as he manoeuvred her onto their bed.  He kissed every inch of skin exposed to him as he undressed her. 

 

Finally, as naked flesh settled atop naked flesh, he touched two fingers to the pendant and whispered, “One ring to rule him, one ring to find; one ring to bring him home and, in the darkness, bind.”

 

******************************

_Original prompt:_

_Seamus/Pansy please!_    
  
 _Midnight dance_    
 _Snowball fight_    
 _Five golden riiiings! ;D_    
 _Jealousy_    
 _Biscuits_


	3. For pagan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pairing: percy/padma

Typical.

 

Padma huffed as she marched toward Percy’s desk.  Why would she think that the git would be waiting for her in the Main Atrium as agreed?  He was a hard worker, she gave him that, and his life was arranged around his long workday schedule.  Outside of work, though, he went according to his own sense of timing and convenience. 

 

Fine, she technically shouldn’t fault him since this was work-related, but still!  Their International Portkey was about to activate in less than two minutes, and here he was, scribbling away at his desk.  Padma cleared her throat irritably.  “Percy, it’s time to go.  If we miss the Portkey, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning for a new one to be arranged.  I don’t fancy missing our meeting with the Singapore delegate altogether.  Now, grab your things and let’s go!”

 

Percy looked up with a scowl but silently complied, grabbing some folders and loose parchment from his desk and shoving them into his overnight bag. 

 

With that familiar, tug-at-one’s-navel sensation, they disappeared, right on the dot.

 

When they landed, Padma stumbled and found her face mashed against his well-worn Ministry robes.  Flushing, she righted herself and glanced around to orient, trying hard to not think about the fact that, despite his lanky body, his chest did not feel like mere skin and bones.  They were inside a small room with glass walls that allowed them their first glance of the Singapore Ministry’s spacious, glass-and-metal Atrium.  It looked airy and bright.  It was also completely deserted.

 

“Eng-alish people?”

 

The bald Asian security guard with missing teeth was waiting expectantly.  Padma presented her travel papers and asked curiously about the empty building.

 

“Is Chap Goh Mei.  Lass day Chinese New Yee-ah,” the man replied.  “Na-shun-no holly-day.  People all home wif famally.  Low woking unteel tomollow.”

 

“Oh dear, the junior clerk in our department overlooked this when booking our International Portkey!  We’re so sorry to have taken you away from your family.”

 

“Is okay.  Woluntee fo’ dis.  Twiple pay—good!  Oh, have dis message fo’ you.”  The man handed them a folded piece of paper.

 

Padma allowed Percy to glance over her shoulder as she read the message.  It was from the team leader with whom they were supposed to meet at nine o’clock.  She apologized profusely for not sending a request to delay their meeting until the following morning, but given the two-week holiday schedule that was going on, she had not received the alert about the booking until a few days ago and was, unfortunately, too far away from the city to be able to make it into the office to meet them—magical transportation methods were usually closed during Chinese New Year as everyone was expected to travel to intended destinations prior and remain there for the entirety of the holiday.  

 

Padma sighed.  This was not the first time the junior clerk had made a mess of things.  She had never liked nepotism before she started working at the Ministry, but having been there for three years, she loathed the fact that she was constantly having to put up with incompetent Ministry workers—on all levels of government. 

 

There was nothing to be done but ask for directions to the hotel that had been booked for them.  Padma fervently hoped that that had not been botched as well.

 

***

 

The hotel was two streets from the Singapore Ministry.  And it turned out to be a very popular one for tourists and wizards on business from around the world, so the concierge was not in the least put out by the questions put forward by the two guests who were checking in.  Percy and Padma were told that the mirrors above the dressers inside their hotel rooms could answer any specific questions they might still have, although it was smilingly and gently suggested that they freshen up and then return to the lobby’s lounge and bar area, to mingle with other witches and wizards, many of whom were likely to be heading out to enjoy the festivities and would not be adverse to having new acquaintances join them.

 

Padma could not resist bombarding the mirror with questions as she settled into her hotel room.  She learned about the history and superstitions that explained the different traditions and rituals performed during Chinese New Year.  She learned that Chap Goh Mei was comparable to the Western Valentine’s Day and had been historically considered a radical notion.  Unmarried men and women of the upper classes were normally not allowed to mingle unless they were kin, and even then, there were strict rules of etiquette to be obeyed.  Chap Goh Mei not only allowed mingling but was often a means of creating the closest the Chinese had to a love match.  The parents still had the final say on the suitability of their child’s potential spouse, but so long as both sets of parents approved, plans could be made for the couple, for whom their future spouse would not be a complete stranger.

 

Padma was astounded when she realized how similar her own cultural heritage was to the Chinese one.  She also breathed a sigh of relief to know that both cultures had since modernized their ideas toward arranged marriages.  She would never have agreed to leave such a life-altering decision completely in the hands of her parents, much as she loved them.  And she giggled at this rather novel means of hooking up and getting blind dates.

 

By the time she reached the lounge, Percy was already chatting with a group of young wizards.  Padma was not shy by nature—who _could_ be with a bossy twin sister and a large extended family?—but she admired Percy’s ability to strike up conversations with strangers.  At a Ministry social gathering, he had told her (several Firewhiskeys later) that it was a huge effort for him to loosen up sufficiently to talk with people—and not “at them”, as his twin brothers had frequently admonished him for.  But he knew that advancing his career required that he know how to make people he spoke to comfortable, so he had diligently practised at every opportunity.  His efforts were paying off.

 

Percy graciously introduced her to the group and they spent the next few minutes getting acquainted until one of them suggested they continue their conversation over breakfast.  Padma learned that the others had banded together over the course of the past week, most having arrived in the midst of the local holiday and not knowing anyone else in the city.  Not having made alternate plans for the day, Padma readily agreed to adopt the group’s plans, which included some sight-seeing, some souvenir shopping, and the trying out of any local foods that caught someone’s interest.  If the group broke up into smaller units, they were to meet up at the hotel by five o’clock for an early supper and then participate in the traditional Chinese ritual specific to Chap Goh Mei. 

 

Padma exclaimed at this, knowing that she didn’t have anything appropriate to wear, but the other witches laughed and said that they planned to find something suitable during the day.  Relieved, Padma acquiesced.

 

***

 

Padma looked at herself in the full-length mirror in her hotel room and grinned.  Her mother had always complained that she was too thin and too slight, not at all like her curvaceous fraternal twin.  But seeing how well-suited her body turned out to be for the traditional Chinese _cheong-sam_ , she thanked her genetics for her differently made-up body.  The lady at the shop had raved that she had never seen a non-Chinese wear the one-piece dress so well, and while Padma doubted the sincerity of those words, she had fallen in love with it and wanted very much to look stunning tonight.

 

Spending an afternoon outside of work with Percy had brought home in a thunderclap moment of enlightenment how much she truly enjoyed his company.  And how much more time she would like to spend.  They had been playing at the light flirtation for months but had never even gotten close to having a date.  Work and the constant travelling to different countries had left little time for a personal life, and what little time was left was often sacrificed to work-related social gatherings.  But ever since their first two weeks of being partnered on their first assignment, they had established an easy rapport and discovered a similarity of mindset and work ethic.  And she had found, to her surprise, that Percy had quite a dry sense of humour, although his wit was usually misconstrued as sarcasm, so he offended more often than not.      

 

Padma could not figure out why Percy was hesitant to broach the subject of their mutual attraction, but she decided she would borrow some of the legendary Gryffindor courage and initiate.  She had discussed her plan with the other girls, who readily agreed to help.  They were to meet up as a group in the lobby and walk toward the harbour to see the lanterns and then the fireworks.  After that, they would split up into the two groups of men and women and Portkey separately to Kuching, to join in the still-upheld ritual with the rest of the locals and participating visitors.

 

Padma double-checked one last time that the object she had conjured as soon as she returned to her room was safely tucked away in her handbag.  She smiled and exited the room.

 

*** 

 

“You—you look lovely, Padma.”

 

“Thank you, Percy.  You look rather dashing yourself.  Have I ever told you that you look very handsome in navy blue?”

 

Percy blushed and stammered his thanks, but further conversation was put on-hold as the group prepared to leave the hotel.  Padma was pleased to note the hand on the small of her back as they walked through the door.  Discreet winks from some of the girls informed her that the gesture had not gone unnoticed.

 

Percy did not leave her side for a moment as the group walked about admiring the colourful displays, and he unconsciously grabbed hold of her hand as they gasped and exclaimed at the magnificent fireworks display.  Percy shouted in her ear at one point that his brothers needed to come for a visit to see what a truly spectacular fireworks display looked like.  Padma only smiled and tightened her grip in response.

 

***

 

Padma paused by the shore of the Sarawak, holding her conjured mandarin orange tightly.  She had carefully charmed it to only be visible to wizards once it resurfaced from being thrown into the water.  The lettering that spelled out her name contained crushed bits of a strand of hair that she had discreetly lifted from Percy’s shirt during their afternoon tour.  She hoped that it would be sufficient to draw Percy’s attention. 

 

The rest, as they said, was up to the Fates.  If Percy did not fish her orange out of the river downstream, then it was a sign.

 

A sign that she would have to come up with a new plan once they were back home.

 

***

 

As the mandarin oranges appeared, bobbing and flowing with the stream, Percy frowned.  How was he supposed to find the one he wanted among so many?  But then he saw, scattered among the hoard, the few that glowed and twinkled with a magical iridescence that he knew made them invisible to Muggle eyes.  Even so, there were more similar fruits floating down than made up the numbers of their particular group, thus hinting at other magic-wielding individuals who had chosen to try their luck. 

 

He began to wonder if he should think of a spell to somehow isolate Padma’s from the rest when he saw it bobbing its way downstream: a softly glowing mandarin orange with red-and-gold sparks and blue-silver writing.  He made a grab for it.

 

Heart hammering, he gently traced the lettering and whispered her name. 

 

The mandarin orange transformed into a translucent glass globe. 

 

Percy quickly informed his nearest friend that he needed a moment alone and looked about quickly for a place to view the contents of the globe in privacy.  He hid among some tall shrubbery.  He whispered her name again.

 

Whisps of smoke escaped from the globe and darkened as they enveloped his head like a large Bubble-head Charm.  Then, silvery sparks glimmered and shimmied and coalesced into an image. 

 

Percy stopped breathing.

 

It was an image of Padma lying on her side atop her bed.  She wore something satiny-smooth that clung to her and a seductive smile.  The image winked at him and beckoned with her index finger.

 

***

 

Padma waited with the last group of witches at the Portkey point.  It had been an hour since they had dropped their mandarin oranges into the water.  Surely, _surely_ the boys had found the ones they wanted.  Two of the girls she had befriended had left with wizards not of their group.  And another had squealed when a fellow group member had showed up grinning and holding her mandarin orange in his hand. 

 

Finally, the head of red hair she had been scanning the crowds for.  As he approached her, she noticed that he was looking absent-minded and crestfallen.  What—?

 

“Hi, Padma.  Um, look, I’ve got a bit of a headache from all the sun this afternoon and the noises of the crowds and then the fireworks.  Do you—Could we maybe find a quieter place to just, I don’t know, rest a few hours and, and then work on our meeting proposal for tomorrow?”

 

Padma tried to hide her disappointment.  She felt the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes from the effort.  Taking a deep breath, she forced her voice to remain calm and steady.  “Of course, Percy.  I think I’m a bit tired myself from the excitement of the day.  Where do you want to go?”

 

“Oh, there’s this nice little hotel that I stayed at last year.  I still remember the layout perfectly, so we can Apparate there.  You do trust me, don’t you?”

 

“Of—of course I do, Percy.”

 

“All right.  On the count of three.  One… two… three…”

 

***

 

Padma stared up at the sign on the lintel in confusion and awe.  _The Peninsula Hotel_.  Looking around and finally behind her, she sucked in a sharp breath as she recognized the brightly-lit skyline of Hong Kong.

 

She gave Percy a wide-eyed, questioning look.  He didn’t say a word but grabbed her elbow and gently steered her toward the doors.  She felt the tingle of the wards as they passed through, but then she stopped short once they were inside.  She looked about the spacious, beautifully-designed lobby and self-consciously patted her hair, thankful that she was decently dressed for such an elegant place. 

 

Percy had left her standing in the middle of the quiet lobby and was now approaching, key in hand.  Smiling nervously, he reached for her hand and coaxed her toward the elevators. 

 

When they reached the door of their room, Percy fumbled with the key and finally managed to control his shaking hand long enough to unlock the door.  Using one arm to prop the door open, he used his other to encircle her waist and draw her into the room.

 

He heard her gasp with surprise as she took in the view of the skyline through the wall of windows, the perfectly set table-for-two by those windows with shining silverware reflecting the flickering candlelight, the bucket of champagne set next to one of the seats, and the large poster bed.

 

As he wrapped his arms around her, he heard the distinct click of the lock and the jingle of the Do-Not-Disturb charms.  Releasing a ragged breath, he whispered into her ear, “Surprise.”

 

Padma could only reply with a choked sound and a sniff.  Anxiously, Percy turned her around so that he could see her lovely, lovely face. 

 

“Padma, are—are you all right?  Did I—I didn’t mean to upset you.  When I saw the—I wanted to—I thought this would be a better place to watch the fireworks.  I’m told the Hong Kong fireworks displays are the most spectacular in the world, but when I got here, they told me that the big show had already been done a few days ago.  But I’d already checked us out of the hotel in Singapore and had our stuff Floo’d here, so if you don’t mind spending the night here—but we could always go back if you want.  I’m sure they haven’t rented out our rooms yet— _mmmmphhhhhh…_ ”

 

When Padma finally released him from the kiss, she told him, breathlessly, “I don’t mind staying here at all.  Shall we start with a late night snack?  I’m sure the desserts here are absolutely exquisite.  And afterwards, if you’re not too tired, we could always try for some fireworks of our own…” 

 

 

******************************

_Pairing: Percy/Padma_  
  
_Mandarin oranges_  
_Cheongsam_  
_The Peninsular Hotel, Hong Kong_  
_Fire crackers_

_Chinese people in singapore and Malaysia have a tradition akin to Valentine's day on the fifteenth day of the New Year. Perhaps something incorporating that tradition?_

 


	4. For withdrawnred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pairings: seamus/pansy, draco/hermione

It was over dessert that Seamus broached the subject.

 

“So, I’ve got our next double-date planned.”

 

“I hope it won’t be a disaster like the last one you ‘planned’.”

 

“How many times do I haf t’ tell you that it was a freak storm that ruined the picnic?  I’d been checkin’ the weather reports for a week an’ there was nothing abou’ rain, never mind the near-flooding we saw when we Portkeyed.”

 

“It really wasn’t his fault, Pansy.  The scientists—they’re non-magical people who are experts on—”

 

“We know what scientists are, Granger.  Remember how we spent the day at the Science Museum?”

 

“But Pansy—”

 

“Pansy’s father has been investing in Muggle companies that make Muggle pills ever since Mungo’s found that they could better treat her grandfather’s rare illness with a combination of potions and Muggle pills.”

 

“Oh!  You’ll have to tell me about that sometime, Pansy!  Anyway, I was going to say that scientists have been warning about these sorts of unusual weather phenomena for years because they are one of the things that result from global warming.  The way that non-magical people have been manufacturing things like building materials and products you can buy in the stores is to use petroleum dug from deep underground as fuel.  But the problem with this type of fuel is that the waste materials resulting from burning petro—which they also use to run cars—gets released into the atmosphere, where they stay and start a chain of reactions that stops excess heat from the ground from dissipating into outer space and thus causing long-term warming up of the world’s temperature.  And this global warming will be having long-term effects on the climate.  Even a one degree difference in the overall temperature has devastating effects on the balance of things.”

 

“Aren’t they doing anything to stop this?”

 

“Not enough.  And most of the manufacturing companies are not interested in changing the way they do things because it would cost a lot of money to restructure their factories.  They also have enough influence on governments to successfully hinder any real attempts to address the issue.”

 

“Well, what about the elemental mages?  Couldn’t they—”

 

“Elemental mages only have enough magic and power to affect local weather.  Global climate is beyond their abilities, even if they were to work together to try to fix things.  And besides, many of them are quite jealous of what they feel is the ability to control and subjugate the people around them, so it would be hard to persuade them to be so altruistic.”

 

“Some of them can be real pricks.  I remember one of the ol’ local mages who’d affected the harvest three years in a row because he got too old and starting losing control over his magic.  They had to get the Archmage from Dublin to come and deal with him.  Things got better for a bit.  Then, of course, Voldemort and his Death Eaters thought it would be fun to go about killin’ everyone.”—It was a testament to their conditioning that, having been dating two Gryffindors the past two years, Draco and Pansy merely winced at the name—“Me mam’s been complainin’ that the residual magic from all them hexes and curses has been affecting the crops.  The farmers are hoppin’ mad.  Good thing they’re still plenty scared of Mam t’ not pin the blame on her.  ’Tis good we Irish, magical and Muggle alike, have always respected magic.  Nothing like the secrecy that Londoners have to live with.”

 

“So, the non-magical people in the town all know your mum’s a witch, Seamus?”

 

“Nah!  Not like how _we_ know she’s a witch, I mean.  They just think she’s one of those wise women with some skill in herblore and healing abilities.  Me gran was one, too, so they always assumed she’d take over the family business, so to speak.”

 

“Oh, I see!  And I apologize for getting us so off topic—you were saying about the next date you’ve got planned?”

 

“Figured giving you six weeks’ advanced notice should be sufficient: keep your New Year’s Eve free because I’ve got us booked for something.  Pack some overnight things for warm weather and swimming.  Is all I’m gonna say for now.  Meet at the Ministry Portkey office the day afore at noon.”

 

“Oh, celebrating New Year’s Eve in a warm place sounds wonderful, Seamus!  I’ll mark my calendar when I get home.”

 

“I have access to some Felix Felicis at the office if you want some, Finnigan.  Ow!”

 

“Be nice!  I’m sure Seamus has everything planned just fine and won’t need potions-enhancement to pull it off.”

 

“There’s a good Draco-boy.  You behave for your mistress and you get your treat.”

 

“Shut it, Panse.”

 

“That’s all you’ve got?  Whipped.”

 

“Finnigan, did Pansy ever tell you about the time she sold her mother’s pearl earrings—Ouch!  Will you two witches stop with the violence?”

 

“You deserved it.”

 

“For a Slytherin, you really have very poor self-preservation skills.”

 

“Now, girls, go easy on the poor chap.  If he weren’t such a gentleman, he’d be hitting back, and he’s got some nasty arsenal under his belt.”

 

“Is this no-hitting-girls rule a new thing, Draco?  Because I most certainly remember hair-pulling and shoving in my innocent childhood.”

 

“Of course you do.  You took great pleasure messing with my hair and ruffling up my clothes, as I recall.”

 

“Only in retaliation.  And Narcissa always took my side.”

 

“I recall that, too!  Good thing Rubena was on hand frequently to remind you to behave in a more lady-like manner.”

 

“I wouldn’t’ve been compelled to break with my manners if someone hadn’t pushed me into the pond!”

 

“You fell in because you leaned too far!”

 

“Do you know, Hermione, I finally got Pansy to watch an episode of Brett as Sherlock Holmes when it was showing on the telly the other night?”

 

Draco and Pansy stopped bickering.  Pansy looked a bit flustered.  Both Draco and Hermione could only gape.

 

Pansy tried to cover her embarrassment.  “And I didn’t realize how much of a fan he was until he started telling me details from the books that didn’t make it onto the screen.  He also started randomly quoting from one of the stories when one of the characters on screen asked Holmes how he knew what he did about him.  What was that quote, Seamus?”

 

“‘My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people don’t.’  From _The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle_.  What?  I’ve been a fan of the books ever since me da’ gave them to me on my tenth birthday.  I’d read them all by the time I started Hogwarts.  I _can_ read, you know.”

 

“Oh, I didn’t doubt that, Seamus!  I just—I just didn’t realize you were a fan, that’s all.  Draco loves them, too.”

 

Now it was Seamus’ turn to gape.  Draco said, rather defensively, “What?  _I_ can read as well, you know.”

 

“But—but—it’s Muggle fiction!”

 

“No, it’s not.  Call yourself a fan?  Conan Doyle was a Squib who wrote stories based on his Ravenclaw brother’s adventures as a rogue Hit Wizard who quit the Ministry and hired himself out.  You’ll find a much more accurate biography in Flourish and Blotts, I’m sure.”

 

“ _a Rí na bhfeart_!  I’m going tomorrow.”

 

“If you’re really interested, I’ll lend you my copy.  It’s not at all that interesting, but you’ll probably see the stories in a different light, now that you know, and pick up on the hints of magic that he tried so hard to hide.  Still, he’s one of the best storytellers.”

 

Seamus nodded his agreement.  “Thanks, Malfoy.  You showin’ for Quidditch tomorrow?”

 

“Of course.  Have a bet to settle with the Weasel King.”

 

“Ha!  That’s right!  Best get a good night’s sleep, then.  Hear he’s been doin’ some extra practising.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure Hermione will make sure he’s not too overtired for the game tomorrow.”

 

Hermione blushed.  “Pansy!”

 

“Panse has always been an equal-opportunity insulter.  Ah-ah, where are your lady-like manners?”

 

“Screw them!”

 

“I’d rather you screwed Finnigan and left my poor, abused body alone.  Hey, now don’t you start as well!  Else, I’m sleeping with the Crookmeister tonight.”

 

“Maybe you should sleep alone tonight, Malfoy.  I hate to admit it, but the gals have got that secret withholding-sex gambit they’re not afraid to use against a poor chap.”

 

“Good point, Finnigan.  Now, shall we all call it a night?”

 

***

 

_“Welcome to the Osprey Reef Atlantis Hotel.  We hope you enjoy your stay here.”_

 

Hermione stared in awe about her.  She briefly noted that Draco and Pansy were equally awestruck and that Seamus was grinning from ear to ear.

 

The Atlantis was an underwater structure built entirely of glass that allowed unimpeded views of the coral reef from every angle.  As schools of fish and other marine animals swam by, a small voice would name them and give three facts about each animal.  Hermione walked closer toward one of the windows and saw that there were spots on the glass panes with the rune for “inquire” etched into them.  She asked for more details about the multi-coloured coral in front of her and was delighted to hear a response. 

 

Seamus stepped beside her.

 

“Seamus, this is fantastic!  I think you are the clear winner in our informal contest for the best double-date!”

 

“Thanks, Hermione!  I stumbled upon some brochures by chance at my sister’s.  The hotel is, of course, only one of a chain of them across the Reef.  This reef interested me because we’re supposed to see sharks here along with the other fish.  I’ve booked us two rooms.  It’s already evening, local time, so we have all of tomorrow to do some exploring and then go home New Year’s Day.”

 

“Oh, I’m definitely going to have to come back and spend at least a week!  I should see if my parents might be interested—they may have lived in Australia for several months, but they couldn’t’ve even _conceived_ of this!”

 

“Well, it’s dinner time now, so why don’t you and Malfoy bring your bags to your room and then we’ll all grab a bite?”

 

“Excellent idea!  See you in a bit!”

 

***

 

As soon as they walked into their hotel room, Hermione and Draco were greeted by a voice that gave them a brief history of the hotel, assured them that the building’s construction and existence did not adversely impact on the ecosystem of the reef, and asked what items could be provided to increase their comfort within the room and for the duration of their stay.  Draco replied to the question by jokingly suggesting that the spacious bed be turned into a four-poster one with silk ties attached for light bondage; he was astounded when his request was complied to.  Hermione made a face at him and asked that the bathtub be converted to a shower stall with multiple showerheads and the sink area to be expanded into a his-and-her-double-sink counter. 

 

After arranging her personal effects to her satisfaction, Hermione spent some time admiring the ocean view outside the window before dragging Draco downstairs to meet up with Pansy and Seamus. 

 

The four decided to be adventurous and ordered the chef’s tasting menu.  They were delighted with the array of fresh seafood, seasonal fruits and vegetables, and artful arrangements of each dish.  When they finished their meal, their server gave each of them a short questionnaire to complete; upon completion, the text on each questionnaire was reorganized to give suggestions on how best to spend the remainder of their stay and which sections of the hotel to visit for particular activities.  It was decided that the four of them would go to the Aquarium Room to get a quick glimpse of the reef in all its splendour and then head to bed for an early night so that they could meet up early the next day.    

 

New Year’s Eve was delightfully spent admiring the reef from different angles in the various viewing rooms the hotel.  In the afternoon, they split up: Pansy wanted a massage, Hermione wanted to swim in the reef and actually _feel_ the life of it around her, and Draco and Seamus also wanted to swim the reef but among the sharks.  As she swam about, touching the living coral and giggling as various sea creatures shied away from her, Hermione had to admit that the Bubble-head Charm was much better than the awkward non-magical scuba equipment for experiencing the reef.  Two guides were within easy reach to answer questions and point out interesting spots to admire.

 

After the swim, Hermione returned to her room and indulged in a long, hot shower.  She then joined Pansy in the lounge area for cocktails. 

 

This was definitely one of the best New Year’s Eves she’d ever spent anywhere.

 

***

 

“Seamus, thank you again for arranging this wonderful New Year’s Eve get-together.”

 

They were at dinner.

 

“I’m glad it worked out so well—I hope this makes up for that disastrous picnic.”

 

“More than!  I was telling Pansy that this is so much better than spending New Year’s Eve at another typical party.  And you do realize that we’ll be able to do a second countdown once we get home tomorrow!”

 

“What, too embarrassed to snog the daylights out of Malfoy in front of us—no wait, silly me, you just want to do an encore when you get home.”

 

“Play your cards right and you’ll get to indulge as well, Finnigan.”

 

“ _Boys!_ ”

 

“Always thinking with the wrong head.”

 

“Oi!  That’s hittin’ below the belt, that is.”

 

“I have yet to receive any complaints about my abilities.”

 

“Your ego is so fragile after the suffering at the hands of Voldemort that I don’t have the heart to annihilate it with the truth.”

 

“Ha!  Ten points to Gryffindor!”

 

“I’d say ten points from Gryffindor.  It’s really not fair how the gals will complain to each other about their boyfriends’ shortcomings.  How is a chap s’posed to know what they’re doin’ wrong if you don’t tell us?  And yes, I’m man enough to admit I’m not perfect, but then again, who’d want a perfect boyfriend?  Boring as shite he’d be.”

 

“That’s—a surprisingly mature way of looking at it, Seamus!  I’m starting to realize that I really don’t give you enough credit for your intelligence.”

 

“Ah, well, glad to not seem stupid in your eyes.  An’ can I say that I really enjoyed exploring the reef with you this morning?  You asked some very interesting questions I’d not considered.  Was an education.”

 

“Thank you, Seamus!  I know I must still appear to be the insufferable know-it-all from school, but I’ve always been curious about things.  And there’s so much to learn about the world!  But I think I’m getting a bit better at toning down my enthusiasm so that it doesn’t sound like I’m preaching to everyone.”

 

“Most of the time, anyway.”

 

“Oh hush, you.  You’re just as much a bookworm as I am.  You merely pretend that you already know everything and don’t need to consult other sources for knowledge.”

 

“Ah well, societal pressures and all that.  He’s got the pressure of having to live up to such an intimidating name, after all.  And Epictetus may have said ‘Only the educated are free’, but his is the ideal.  Not many pure-bloods can be free-thinkers and still uphold their standing in a conservative circle.”

 

There was a long pause, during which three astonished pairs of eyes stared at Seamus so intently that he began to squirm. 

 

Hermione was the first to break the stasis.  “I—I had no idea you were such an expert on philosophy, Seamus.”

 

“Oh blimey, I ain’t!  Me da’ read philosophy at Trinity College Dublin, an’ he was forever quoting that to me when I was growing up.  He was trying to make sure I took my studies seriously.  Knew if I got into Hogwarts, I’d be more interested in seeing what sort of fun I could have with magic.  Was right, too.”

 

“I do recall you seemed to do well in your classes, Seamus.”

 

“Not as good as you, though.  An’ that’s _with_ having all those adventures with Harry and Ron.”

 

“Trust me, they weren’t as fun as you think.  But that’s all past.  I was asking the concierge what plans the hotel usually makes for guests on New Year’s Eve.  She said that we should skip dessert and make our way to the Aquarium Room by eleven o’clock.  There will be a dessert table set up—with champagne, of course—and then a special demonstration that usually attracts many of the sea creatures to the glass panes, so we’ll countdown to midnight surrounded by the inhabitants of the reef.”

 

***

 

There was frantic knocking on the door.

 

Draco stirred and grunted his displeasure when the bedside clock announced that it was 6:15 a.m.  He muttered to the groaning Hermione that he would see who the wanker was.

 

He opened the door to a harrassed-looking Seamus and a scowling Pansy holding a blue woollen jumper.  Seamus rushed in and began prattling.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!  I swear I heard the chap say eight o’clock!  But I confused the times—he meant eight o’clock _there_ and not _here_ and I mixed it up!  Shoulda remembered six o’clock!  And then the silly jumper started making that beeping noise and we didn’t realize at first why, but then we did and—”

 

“Seamus, wait!  Slow down.”  Hermione had forced herself awake and was sitting up groggily.  “Just take a few breaths.  Now, start from the beginning.”

 

“The Portkey!  It was set to activate at six o’clock Australian time and bring us home to eight o’clockEngland time, but I mixed up the times in my head.  That’s why I said we had to meet in the lobby at half seven so it would give us enough time to check-out and wait for the activation.  Pansy and I were sleeping when we heard the countdown beeping.  So, now we’ve missed our Portkey and we’re stuck here!  _Dh'ábhoit!_ ”    

 

“Ugluk’s needle knob!  It’s New Year’s Day!  The Australian Ministry will be closed, so we won’t be able to get a new Portkey _or_ contact our Ministry.  What do we do now?”

 

“We could always stay here until—”

 

“Yeah, I guess we—bollocks, we can’t!  When I was booking this place, they told me that the hotel was booked for a week by the Peruvian Ministry for some private function starting today at noon.  Is why I couldn’t book us here for longer!  Danu's gee, why do these things always happen to me?  This was all going perfectly.”

 

There was a dreadful pause as Seamus pulled at his hair and paced, Draco rubbed his face wearily, and Pansy stalked over and huffed into a chair by the window, the jumper lying uselessly by the door. 

 

“What are you looking for, Hermione?” 

 

Hermione had dragged herself out of bed and was digging through her overnight bag, but she paused to answer Pansy.  “I just wanted to double-check that I packed the Dittany.  I was just thinking… it’s really dangerous, I know, but it could be worth a try.  It’s certainly better than being stuck here—”

 

“Granger, get to the point!”

 

“Draco, do you think your parents’ villa in Barcelona would be available to receive unexpected guests?  And… do you think you could manage to bring all of us there by Side-Along without too much Splinching?”

 

“Oh, that’s a brilliant idea, Hermione!  From there, we could probably contact the Malfoys and see if we could Floo to the Manor!”

 

Draco frowned as he considered the plan.  “I haven’t been to that villa in years.  But we were just at the Mykonos one in August, remember?  I feel better Apparating there, since I have a better mental image of it.  And I think it would be safer for all of us if I Side-Along’d one person at a time.”

 

“Right, good points.  Yes, let’s do that.  But first, since we’re no longer in that much of a hurry, let’s freshen up, pack our bags, and go downstairs for some breakfast.  After that, we check-out and then Side-Along one at a time to Mykonos.  Oh, Draco, remind me to give you the Dittany to keep in your pocket.”

 

“Hermione, you’re a good person to have in a pinch!”

 

“Don’t mention it, Seamus.  A simple oversight that anyone could’ve made.  And hey, we’d still be home to celebrate a second countdown.”

 

Seamus managed a weak chuckle as he grabbed Pansy’s hand to walk her back to their room.

 

***

 

Hermione and Draco arrived safely at her flat with fifteen minutes to spare before midnight.

 

As they prepared for their second countdown kiss, Hermione whispered, “Well, this was certainly a New Year’s Eve to remember!”

 

*********************************

_Original prompt:_

_I would lurve some Seamus/Pansy and Draco/Hermione, not necessarily together, of course. ;)_

_\- Stranded out of the country on New Years_  
 _\- "Only the educated are free." -Epictetus_  
 _\- Picnic in the park turns disastrous_  
 _\- "My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people don't."_

 


	5. For DHLane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pairing: draco/hermione

_“Don’t you_ dare _call Hagrid pathetic, you foul—you evil—”_

_He had barely recovered from the slap she’d given him—his left cheek was still stinging—when she pulled out her wand and pointed it at him.  Self-preservation kicked in then, and any desire to exact revenge for her violation of his person or even to tease them further was quickly banished as he and his boys beat a hasty retreat._

_“Harry, you’d better beat him in the Quidditch final!  You just better had because I can’t stand it if Slytherin win!” she shouted at their backs._

 

***

 

_He’d just calmed down sufficiently when he heard the door creak open.  Hastily retreating to a dark corner, he was startled to see a wild, tearful Hermione Granger storm into Myrtle’s bathroom and start blasting chunks from the walls with her wand._

_“Stupid Ron!  Foul, loathsome git!  Arse!  Wanker!”  Each insult was punctuated by small explosions as debris flew about.  Myrtle had come out of her toilet to scold, but one look at Granger’s fury had had Myrtle scurrying back and down the U-bend of her toilet._

_Draco himself was so bewildered that he could only stare as she continued her rampage.  A small part of him was disgruntled at her reckless display.  After all, what worries did she have?_ Her _plan to gift Dumbledore with a cursed necklace hadn’t spectacularly backfired!  And_ she _wasn’t failing at what should’ve been a simple patch-up job for a stupid cabinet that refused to be fixed!  He’d even given up the Quidditch match against Gryffindor to work on the cabinet, but still, it stubbornly resisted his attempts to get it in working order._

_He hiccoughed._ Her _parents’ lives weren’t being threatened by a deranged, intimidating Dark Lord who would not bat an eye before subjecting_ anyone _who displeased him to the Cruciatus Curse._

_But even as Draco shuddered at the memory of the excruciating pain, another part of him sympathized with the distraught Gryffindor.  She was the bane of his existence, this infuriating, swotty Know-It-All, but it must be terribly hard to have to constantly be the best, the one whose example everyone around her secretly envied and aspired to.  And those at the top were denied the right to stumble, to show frustration or self-doubt.  So, they had both retreated to the one miserable place where they could remove their masks of superiority and give into the momentary weakness._

_Draco’s musings were interrupted by Granger’s vicious, hair-raising laugh._

_“_ Oppugno! _”_

_A flock of yellow birds attacked the mirror, finally shattering it into millions of shards that littered the floor and which left tiny, abrasive cuts all over her robes and face.  Her laughter had turned to heaving sobs then._

_Without even realizing, he had taken a few steps forward, wanting to comfort.  He stopped short.  She would probably want to hex his balls off for having born witness to such un-Granger-ish behaviour, but before he could make his escape, she had noticed him.  His heart began beating erratically when he saw that sudden, angry glint in her eye.  He backed away as she headed slowly toward him, a smiling predator cornering her prey.  He cursed when his back hit the wall.  The breath left him and he closed his eyes to await the inevitable._

_But the agony of a hex never came.  Instead, he felt a soft, warm body collide into him and soft lips press against his so fiercely, so ruthlessly that he felt faint.  When his jumbled thoughts finally righted themselves, he found his arms wrapped tightly about her waist and his return kisses as bold and intense as hers.  He groaned as he felt her arms twine about his neck._

_But his guttural response must’ve snapped her back to reality for she suddenly pushed away, wide-eyed and flushed.  He was still too numb to say a word, and she turned and ran out of the bathroom._

_A blackness veiled his eyes then, and he sank to the floor, curled himself up as tightly as possible, and gave into the despair._

***

 

_“Excuse me, Mrs. Malfoy, I—I wondered—you must be so weary after—could I get you anything?  The elves have managed to put together some food from what could be salvaged.  You—you needn’t get up; I can get you anything you want.  Perhaps some soup?”_

_Draco had been leaning wearily against his mum’s shoulder, but at the sound of_ her _voice, he’d looked up, flabbergasted.  She was the last person—fine, second-last—he ever expected to pay them any heed.  In fact, he’d been trying to summon the energy to get to his feet and leave before he and his parents were kicked out.  He’d felt his mum stiffen and his father hiss in disbelief.  But he was soon too distracted by the mouth-watering smells of hot soup and chicken to let his mind wonder at her intentions._

_As his hunger abated and the numbness began to disperse, however, his focus broadened and he began following her around the Hall as she brought food to others huddled in corners, as afraid as he and his parents were of the type of reception they would get if they dared approach the tables already overflowing with people.  He sighed wistfully at their ability to uphold a steady if subdued stream of conversation after all that had happened._

_And not for the first time, he wondered what sort of place, if any, he could have in this new world order._

 

***

 

_“Please state your full name for the record.”_

_“Hermione Jean Granger.”_

_Great.  Fantastic.  Another witness to beat further nails to his coffin.  They might as well pass the inevitable verdict now so that they could end his suffering._

_“And why are you here, Ms. Granger?”_

_“To give testimony on behalf of the accused.”_

_His head snapped up.  He must have heard wrong.  He_ had to _have.  There was no way—_

_“Don’t you mean that you are here to give testimony_ against _the accused, Ms. Granger?”_

_“No, you heard my statement correctly the first time.  I am here to give testimony that will hopefully reduce the severity of the sentence that has already been predetermined in the minds of many gathered in this court, whether citizen or judge alike.”_

_There were fierce whispers around the courtroom and it took several firm admonishes from Kingsley Shacklebolt before everyone settled down._

_“Proceed, Ms. Granger.”_

_“As many of you are aware, I am a Muggle-born witch.  I represent everything that Draco Malfoy has been taught to despise and disdain as being inferior to him.  And indeed, during our first few years at Hogwarts, he had made his contempt known to me.  We’ve had bitter and sometimes vicious spars between classes and on and off the school grounds.  This was further intensified as we competed to be the top of our year in all the classes we shared.  And with every little victory I won, I’d like to think that I proved to him that Muggle-borns are just as worthy of being at Hogwarts as any pure-blood._

_“But I never had any evidence of his changed attitude until we—Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and I—were caught by Snatchers and brought to Malfoy Manor.  I’d only had enough time to put a jinx on Harry to distort his facial features to be unrecognizable, so both Ron and I could still be identified easily by anyone who knew us.  When we were brought before Death Eaters that included Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy, we were interrogated.  Draco Malfoy was asked to positively identify us, but he refused.  Even in the presence of his father, his aunt, and the imminent threat of the presence of Voldemort himself, Draco Malfoy did not confirm our identities.  He had nothing to gain by not cooperating, but he chose instead to be decent, to defy what he’d been taught by the same people who desired to turn us into the ultimate prize._

_“As you’ve already heard from Harry Potter’s testimony, Draco Malfoy had also hesitated to carry out Voldemort’s orders to murder Professor Dumbledore, even though failure would cost him his life and that of his parents.  I also have further evidence to support Harry Potter’s claim: I chanced upon an incident that I didn’t realize until later was related to the event atop the_ _Astronomy_ _Tower_ _.  I was—I had been upset to learn that Ronald Weasley had been poisoned on his birthday, and I’d chosen to… release the pain with a good cry inside the unused girl’s bathroom on the first floor.  But when I walked in, I discovered the bathroom already occupied… by Draco Malfoy, who had chosen the same location for the same reason.  I’d—I’d never seen him so out of control and so vulnerable.  I overheard Moaning Myrtle, the bathroom’s resident ghost, attempt to soothe him and I caught a few words he mumbled in return: ‘not working’, ‘going to fail’, and ‘kill us’.  Circumstantial as this may be, I would still submit that this is proof that Draco Malfoy was being compelled to act against his will and be an accessory to a heinous crime.  If he is truly a ruthless, unrepentant Death Eater, he would not have acted in the manner he did.  And he would not have been so unwilling to kill Professor Dumbledore._

_“Finally, I wish to give details about what occurred during the_ _Battle_ _of Hogwarts, in the midst of our search for the remaining Horcruxes.  Harry Potter has testified that we entered the Room of Requirement in search of Ravenclaw’s presumed-lost diadem and that we were successful, although we were nearly trapped by the Fiendfyre that was cast by Vincent Crabbe, who did not manage to escape from the Room.  What Harry Potter has agreed to let me divulge is the fact that even though Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle had cornered us in the Room and threatened to bring us to Voldemort, Draco Malfoy was the only one who tried to dissuade the other two from killing us on the spot, and I think that Harry, Ron, and I could have found a way to escape their clutches if Crabbe had not cast the Fiendfyre._

_“I know that Draco Malfoy’s actions more likely stemmed from a need for self-preservation than any purely altruistic motives, but I still wish to point out the fact that his showing any consideration at all for our well-being is a testament to his decency as one human being to another, and this is more than many others on Voldemort’s side have even considered, let alone enacted.”_

_Granger finally paused in her lengthy speech and the initial silence was quickly drowned out by the uproar, which was especially loud amongst the Wizengamot.  Shacklebolt finally had to magically magnify his voice and threaten expulsion to restore order._

_“Do you have anything further to add to your testimony, Ms. Granger?”_

_“No, Minister.”_

_“Thank you.  You may return to your seat.”_

_Throughout her testimony, Draco had not dared to make eye contact with her.  And he’d listened in escalating disbelief as she gave her statement.  She was absolutely correct that he had done everything for self-preservation purposes, but that she had twisted it to make it seem as if he had renounced the beliefs he had been taught had caught him unawares.  He was heedless of the next few witnesses who gave their statements, whether for or against him, as he pondered the truth of her assertion.  Had he really renounced those beliefs?  Well, he’d certainly been forced to admit that Mudbloods—no, he had to start using the term “Muggle-borns” now—were not as primitive and stupid as he’d been made to believe.  And it had been a humiliating lesson to be beaten by Granger over and over again in school.  And when he thought back to his attitude towards the hapless Muggles that his father and his cronies had levitated during the Quidditch World Cup and the parade of Muggles who had been brought to his ancestral home and then taunted, tortured, and murdered, he realized that he_ had _changed his opinion of them.  He had been horrified at the cruel treatment of those countless, helpless victims at the hands of the Death Eaters.  He’d had to watch on several occasions and afterwards escape to his bedroom to vomit in the toilet of his_ en suite _bathroom._

_When the verdict was finally proclaimed, no one was more surprised than he that he had escaped with a mere sentence of one year of house arrest followed by two years of requisite “reparatory services”, whose nature pended further determination and would be based on how he behaved during his year of confinement._

_It was only after his sentencing that he dared to sneak a glance at the witch who had been instrumental in the Wizengamot’s show of mercy.  As his eyes met hers, she gave him a slight smile and nod._

 

***

 

_Draco sighed as he read the sign: Office for Magical-Muggle Liaison and Cooperative Integration.  Squaring his shoulders, he walked in.  And stopped short.  Of course.  The house arrest had merely been a ploy, a means by which the “new and improved” Ministry showed its magnanimity.  This was his true punishment._

_“Good morning, Malfoy.  Glad to see that you are punctual.  The desk across from me has been made ready for you, so please, make yourself comfortable.  I’m just in the middle of finishing this bit of reading, after which I’ll show you around the office, introduce the staff, and answer any questions you may have.  Oh, there’s a small kitchen just past the door over there.  Feel free to grab anything you want; we usually throw any loose Knuts into the chipped cup on the counter to contribute toward replenishing supplies.”_

_Draco stifled a groan and sat down.  He stared bemusedly at the head of wild curls bent over a large tome.  As swotty as ever._

_As if sensing his scrutiny, Hermione sniffed.  “There are some folders in your in-tray that you can look over.  I won’t insult your intelligence by explaining what they are—I’m sure a smart boy like you can figure it out.”_

_“You’re even bossier than I remember, Granger.  But I suppose that’s fitting, seeing as that bushy head of yours has only gotten more unruly.”_

_Draco was rather disappointed when Granger didn’t react at all to his taunt.  Rolling his eyes, he sighed dramatically and reached for the topmost folder in his in-tray.  It contained a brief biography of a ten-year-old boy named Darryl Santiago, who was eligible to attend Hogwarts in September and would be attending if his parents gave consent.  A small piece of parchment clipped to the biography contained a list of things that needed to be addressed._

_“Really, Granger?  That’s what I’m here to do?  Write suggestions on how to introduce magic to unsuspecting Muggles?”_

_“If you want to put it in such an inaccurate and overly-simplistic way, then yes.  None of these children or their parents will have heard of Hogwarts or Diagon Alley or the Ministry of Magic.  And since each family’s social upbringing will be different, we need to tailor the visit from the liaison wizard or witch so that they can be put at ease.  To that end, it’s useful to have a list of suggestions as to how this can be done effectively.  For example, when my parents and I were visited by Professor McGonagall, she talked to us about the times in our shared history when wizards and Muggles worked together to better their lives and help set up a monarchy or government that would ensure peace and prosperity.  Then, she told us about the point where our societies became segregated and why the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy was established.  She ended our visit with a small demonstration, where she charmed the pot of flowers on our coffee table to sing ‘Over the Rainbow’.”_

_“You know, Granger, I’m surprised you agreed to such a menial position in the Ministry.  With your lecturing abilities, surely you’d feel more at home bossing around snotty sprogs at Hogwarts.”_

_“I would need a lot more experience and schooling before I could qualify.  At least, that is my stance.  If I were to be such an important influence on the next generation of wizards and witches, I’d want to be as qualified as possible so that I could do the job properly.”_

_Again, her response surprised him.  This would have been the perfect opportunity to make comments about prejudiced pure-bloods or to rant about the inequalities that still existed among magical folk of different blood purity._

_Draco had only read through half the remaining folders when, true to her word, Granger finished her reading and note-taking and showed him about the office.  She then showed him how to request research materials from the Ministry Archives and even brought him to where they were located, in case he preferred to do his research there._

_Throughout the rest of the morning, Draco tried his hardest to bait the unruffled Gryffindor.  He made snide remarks about her bespeckled best friend, sneered at articles in the_ Daily Prophet _discussing the repairs to homes and buildings that had been damaged during the Dark Lord’s Second Rising, and scoffed at the idea that the Dark Lord’s demise would make the wizarding world give up age-old prejudices in favour of better rights for all.  Granger never lost her temper and responded with well-thought-out, non-confrontational arguments._

_Finally, goaded beyond reason, Draco demanded that she tell him why she was not threatening him with disembowelment for his comments._

 

_She looked at him squarely in the eye and said, quietly, “I know you think this is some sort of cruel punishment, being forced to work with me.  And I suppose you’d be justified, given that I was the only one who agreed to partner with you.  If you really can’t tolerate the thought of us working together, then, by all means, speak to Flannery-Jones about a transfer.  You may not remember, but Dumbledore once said, ‘Lord Voldemort’s gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great.  We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust.  Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.’  I believe that putting the past behind us is the only way to truly heal from all the pain and suffering we experienced under Voldemort’s reign of terror.  And I absolutely refuse to exact petty revenge on those whom I could view as supporters and perpetrators of such bigoted and narrow-minded ideals.  If I did, then I’m no better than them, and Voldemort would win.  He’s dead, but we would’ve lost the war, in the end.”_

***

 

_They had all been waiting impatiently in the Entrance Hall when the front doors opened and the Durmstrang crowd entered.  He was as curious as everyone else about Krum’s partner for the Yule Ball.  He’d heard the conniptions in the common room when it was discovered that Krum had asked a Hogwarts student to the ball, but no one knew who she was, only that she was not a Slytherin._

_He did not recognize her at first, but when he did, he was stricken, dumbfounded and rooted to the spot.  Hermione Granger.  Krum’s partner was Hermione Granger.  She was smiling nervously on his arm and—dare he say it?—she looked beautiful.  He could not look away as the champions and their partners stood side-by-side at the entrance of the Great Hall, waiting for the rest of the assembled crowd to enter before them.  Only Pansy’s tug to join the queue brought him back to reality with a start.  It took every ounce of his practised self-control to rein in his emotions and appear haughtily nonchalant.  And for the first time in his life, repressing his inner tumult had rendered him uncharacteristically subdued throughout the remainder of the Yule Ball.  He was keenly aware of the raised eyebrows and muttered jibes around him when he failed to make any glib comments about the rabble on the dance floor or the sad attempts at decorating the Hall.  Even Pansy, usually so forgiving of his moods, had impatiently dragged first Theo and then Blaise onto the dance floor without even waiting for his approval._

_But he didn’t care.  He couldn’t keep his eyes off Granger as she laughed and danced and chatted and enjoyed herself._

_It was Daphne who broke the spell when she asked him to dance and teased that he would have a better view of his obsession while on the dance floor.  Well, that snapped him out of his stupor.  He made sure he doubled his attentions toward Pansy and was much more polite toward any other girl who dared ask him to dance.  And he made sure he did not pay any attention to the Gryffindor in the periwinkle-blue chiffon robes the remainder of the evening, going so far as to avert his eyes when they accidentally caught sight of the floaty material or the elegant knot of chocolate-brown hair above the graceful neck._

_Of course, The Fates had decided to further humiliate him by making him stumble across Krum saying his goodnights to Granger—the tedious niceties of the evening had finally taken their toll and he’d needed to get some air.  He turned away quickly enough to not have to witness the snogging, but he’d seen enough to make him head directly toward the dungeons, as fast but dignified as he could._

 

***

 

_Draco thought that he had finally developed an immunity to the horrible screams of agony made by his crazy aunt’s victims.  He could not have been more wrong._

_Granger’s anguished wails ambushed him from every direction.  They penetrated into his very bones and rattled him._

_He had already retreated to the farthest corner from them and turned his back, covered his ears.  It was no use.  He knew that even if he ran to his room and slammed the door, the screams would follow and attack him in his only sanctuary.  There was nowhere to hide._

_He squeezed shut his eyes and clenched his fists, willing himself to not make any sound of distress.  He also brutally repressed his rising anger, a mad desire to stalk to the centre of the room and give his aunt a taste of her own medicine.  It was madness._

_It was hopeless._

_When the screaming finally stopped, to be replaced by short, erratic whimpers, he found himself shaking._

_And at that moment, he vowed he would find a way to help her—help all of them trapped in the dungeons—escape.  Somehow._

 

***

 

_“That was a great talk and demonstration, Malfoy.”  Granger beamed at him as she raised the cup to her lips.  Having taken a sip, she continued, “I remember Flitwick teaching us that flock-of-birds charm in Sixth, but I never thought to have them chirp a medley of Celestina Warbeck songs.”_

_“Well, it would hardly have made a good impression on the Muggles if the birds attacked the framed photographs on the wall and shattered the glass, now would it?”_

_Granger always looked so adorable when she blushed.  “I—I was upset that day.  I can’t believe you still remember.”_

_“It’s not every day a bloke is threatened with murder by snogging, you know.”  That earned him a swat on the arm._

_“So, tomorrow is the last day of your ‘reparatory services’ at the Ministry.  Have you decided what you want to do with your newfound freedom?”_

_Draco started.  He had completely forgotten.  He mused at how quickly the two years had passed.  “I… thought I’d continue working as I have for the past two years… although I should speak to Flannery-Jones about receiving a salary.”_

_Granger gaped.  “Y-you_ want _to continue working at Muggle Relations?  You_ want _to continue visiting Muggle families and telling them about magic?”_

_“Not indefinitely.  As I’m sure you are not, either.  Didn’t you say you wanted to do more diplomatic functions and be a liaison between the Muggle government and the Ministry?  I’m not as averse to working as I used to think, although I’ve not yet determined my career path.  Besides, this current job gives me a perfectly legitimate reason to continue to go to those internet cafés.  You know, Google really is a much better system of researching than the outdated methods the Archives uses.  What?  I’ve received a thorough education from you on all things Muggle for the past two years.  I_ have _admitted to admiring things that they’ve accomplished without magic.  In fact, I distinctly remember ranting to you about the Ministry’s failure to find a means of adapting Muggle technology so that computers can be introduced into it.”_

_“Malfoy, I—that’s really—maybe you should consider switching to the Department of Mysteries and helping them find a way to integrate magic and electronics so that they’ll work in the wizarding world.  I saw you reading up on fibre optics and lasers the other day—maybe the people in Mysteries haven’t thought of that option.”_

_“Well, I could ask Theo.  Oh, you didn’t know?  He’s been doing his ‘servitude’, as he calls it, there.  They call themselves ‘Deep Mysts’, which, I suppose, is appropriate, supercilious as it sounds.”_

_“Well, given that they can’t talk about their work and likely don’t get the credit they deserve for the things they_ do _accomplish, I suppose a grandiose title like that can be forgiven.  Hey, it won’t be a few hours until our next appointment.  We’re not expected back at the office, so why don’t we go to the cinema?”_

_He agreed.  “There’s apparently a fantastic place that makes authentic Malaysian cuisine around the corner from the family we’re visiting tonight.  What say we go there after the appointment?”_

_She laughed.  “All right!  It’s a date, then!”_

 

***

 

_“Hello, Granger.”_

_“Hello, Malfoy.  Have you been enjoying yourself?”_

_“I have.  Although I’ve been getting some curious looks from some of your friends and some pointed questions from your cousin.”_

_“Oh, don’t mind Cheryl.  She’s always acted like a mother hen to all the cousins.  I saw you mingling very successfully.  Can I say that I’m amazed at your complete turnabout and that you should be very proud of yourself?  It’s only been five years since Voldemort’s death, but you’ve not only renounced the prejudices you were taught, you’ve even starting influencing others in your elite circle to do the same and_ want _to.”_

_“We’ve merely substituted one form of brainwashing for another.  Ow!”_

_“Fine, call it what you will.  Deny all you want.  But I see through the mock snobbery, Malfoy.  I’ve known you for too long.”_

_“Twelve years altogether.  Hogwarts seems like a different age.  So much has happened since.”_

_“But only for the better, wouldn’t you say?”_

_Before he could respond, the noise around the room increased several degrees as the countdown began.  Draco quickly wrapped his arms around Granger and stared at her.  Three… Two… One… Happy New Year!_

_His heart fluttered madly as he kissed her, hugging her tightly against him and wanting naught but to hold her forever._

_He very reluctantly released her when she whispered that he was making it difficult for her to breathe.  Her face was a brilliant shade of red.  She muttered a feeble excuse about needing to grab a drink and made her escape.  He stared after her, his smile threatening to split his face.  Perhaps he_ should _follow the Muggle custom and make a New Year’s Resolution… one he fully intended on keeping…_

_When they said their goodbyes and thanked cousin Cheryl for a wonderful party, she gave him a hug and whispered fiercely in his ear, “You take good care of my little cousin.  My brother works for_ the Met _and he’s very comfortable with all types of guns.  You may know some nasty magical spells, but from what Hermione’s told us, you are still vulnerable like everyone else against bullets.”_

_He had promised.  And when they arrived at Granger’s flat and she gave him another breath-taking kiss, he thought that keeping the promise would be easy._

_As he settled into bed that night, his last thought before drifting off was that he wanted to be able to kiss her every day for the rest of his life._

 

***

 

_He was drawn to the sound of her laughter._

_As he turned the corner, he found her head of riotous curls from among the sea of heads.  He approached but then paused.  She was chatting with Potter, making faces at things he said and alternately swatting his arm playfully or resting her hands on his.  His stomach felt queasy as he turned away.  He barely saw where he was heading and kept crashing into people._

_He was an idiot.  A complete barmcake._

_Of_ course _she would snatch the opportunity to be with Potter now that he had broken up with the Weaselette.  With the Weasel King having been killed during the_ _Battle_ _of Hogwarts, it was just Potter and her left of their famous trio.  And how natural it was to transfer her affections for the dead Weasel to The-Boy-Who-Saved._

_Why he thought he would even have a chance to win her affections…_

***

 

Draco sighed long and heavily as he capped the vial containing the last memory.  He carefully placed the vial into the ornate wooden chest and cast the final locking spell.  Looking down at the rectangular box, he marvelled at how such a small container could safekeep such an overwhelming, soul-absorbing, heart-wrenching, agonizing emotion as that which had taken over every moment of his existence for longer than he cared to think of anymore.  Well, after this day, he would no longer bear such a burden.

 

Crossing to the bookshelf nearest him, he placed the box on the designated shelf.  After long deliberation, he’d decided that it would be best to hide the chest in plain sight.  The wood blended perfectly with the bookcase and, so, would easily be overlooked, just another knick-knack among the private collection of books in the study of the lord of the manor. 

 

Taking a few deep breaths, he finally stood behind the desk and carefully re-read once more the intricate spell in the open book that had been lying there patiently.  Picking up his wand, he paused a moment to remember the father he had idolized, the mother he had worshipped and lost to the most common of ailments, and the woman he loved and despaired of ever receiving her love in return. 

 

With that final twinge of pain still palpable, Draco began to recite the Dark spell that would sever a piece of his heart and remove with it his ability to love another.

 

***

 

It was the house-elves who discovered their master collapsed on the floor of the study. 

 

With his father in Azkaban for lifelong imprisonment and his mother dead for two years, the Healers at St. Mungo’s had no choice but to give the sad news to his aunt and next-of-kin, Andromeda Tonks.  She had borne the news that he was catatonic with fortitude but had almost fainted when the Healers explained how: in some instances and based on a known case recorded in the archives, the removal of the ability to love also removed the will to live.  So, unless a purpose could be found, Draco Malfoy would remain another permanent patient of the Janus Thickey Ward.

 

******************************

_A/N: Kel, sorry this couldn’t be the definitive story you were looking for—i just couldn’t think epic enough.  also, i know you’re not a big fan of these types of endings.  i do have an alternate ending that i’ll post a bit later to appease you.  ;)_

_and thanks to Leopion for the idea of Draco and Hermione working together to be the liaison officers who visit eligible Muggle-born children and explain about Hogwarts and magic._

 

_Original prompt:_

_Draco Malfoy has spent the five years since the war struggling with his self view and has finally come to terms with his past. Now that he is comfortable in his own skin, he is recommended for a position in the Office for Magical/Muggle Liason and Cooperative Integration. He accepts and finds that he is forced to change his view of the one person who represented his greatest stumbling block to his former beliefs - Hermione Granger. His perception of her had either been that of an annoying irritant or very sanctimonious self righteous prig and now he must deal with the idea that she is neither of those things. Now, in fact, he finds that she is constantly on his mind. His mystery to solve._  
  
 _This would be a series of drabbles and there is no one I can think of who is better suited to writing this and breathing new life into something that has been done before but not definitively._


	6. For Ook #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pairing: draco/hermione

Hermione sighed.

 

It was her first day of freedom after a very trying year of ordeals.  She never thought that anything could top the suffering and hardship she faced during Voldemort’s Second Rising, but she was wrong.  And knowing what would be in store for her if she allowed herself to be tricked into doing a repeat, she had to think of a plan, quickly.  Which was why she was on this doorstep at this hour on New Year’s Day.

 

Harry looked very confused as he opened the door but brightened perceptibly when he saw her.  “Hi, ’Mione!”

 

“Hi, Harry!  Happy New Year!  I’m very sorry to bother you now, but I really need your help.”

 

“Sure, come in!”

 

They meandered into the kitchen, where Kreacher was putting the finishing touches to breakfast.  Hermione greeted him and sat down.

 

“Where’s Blaise?”

 

“Right here, love.  Good morning!”  Blaise bent down to accept a kiss.  “I take it my fellow Slytherin is still sleeping off the effects of overindulging last night?”

 

“Thankfully.  And good thing he insisted on getting sloshed on ‘his last night of revelry’, else I wouldn’t’ve been able to slip him that Sleeping Draught.”

 

“We’ll make a Slytherin out of you yet.  Now, I take it you need our help concocting some sort of revenge for The Year of Draco that just past?  I must say, I was rather disappointed that you fell into his trap.”

 

“Don’t remind me!  I was naïve, I admit it.  But lesson learned.  Although I’ve got something more pressing than revenge to deal with, and that’s why I’m here.  Apparently, one of the side effects of the Sleeping Draught on Draco is that it causes him to talk in his sleep.  He was giggling all night about the Year of the Snake, and so I checked my reference books.  He’s talking about the Chinese Lunar calendar, and it _is_ to be the Year of the Snake… in twenty-two days!”

 

“See, and this is why, in spite his flaws, he and I have remained good friends for so long.  He had this all figured out—I guess one does rather have more time on one’s hands when one is placed on house arrest for one year.  He even managed to plan how to completely fool the girl who always beat him at every subject in school—perhaps not Potions; I’d say he had a slight advantage over you in that class… until Slughorn took over, of course.  You should have heard him whine about that in our common room. 

 

“In any case, we’re veering off the topic of discussion.  You are here because you’ve realized that he is planning on coercing you to agree to a repeat of The Year of Draco.  Have you also recalled that he is turning twenty-one this year?  You were always good at Arithmancy, so I’m sure the significance of a combination of the numbers three and seven hasn’t escaped you.”

 

Hermione groaned.  “Help, Blaise.  I don’t think I can handle another year of Quidditch matches, frequent trips to Paris for pastries, neglecting my friends because Draco wants to do something else instead—”

 

“Having sex in every room of the Manor didn’t sound all that objectionable.”

 

“Fine, _that_ wasn’t so bad, but I was always uncomfortable doing that, thinking about all the portraits of his ancestors probably knowing what we were up to and then reporting to his mother.”

 

“Oh, love, what makes you think his parents, his grandparents, and the rest of the family haven’t done that in _their_ youthful folly?”

 

“Hmmm… I should point that out to him.  Thank you, Blaise!”

 

“You can also remind him that he walked in on his parents one time.  It was before we started Hogwarts, but he was certainly old enough to realize what was going on.”

 

“Oh, I will!”

 

“Now, the solution to your problem is as simple and elegant as they come, but first, I must ask you: are you willing to make the ultimate sacrifice to ensure the Year of the Snake will not become The Year of Draco reprised?”

 

“Of course I am!  So long as it doesn’t involve Unforgiveables and Dark Magic.”

 

“Oh, of course not, silly girl.  I have no Dark Lord or crazy aunt aspirations.  Now, all you have to do is to produce the next Malfoy heir.”

 

“What?!  _That’s_ your brilliant plan?  To get me knocked up?”

 

“Were you expecting some complicated, convoluted plan instead?  You forget: you only have twenty-two days.  This is the quickest, most efficient way to put a complete halt to his plans.  And don’t forget: we’ll have the remainder of the year to set up any number of revenge plots to your heart’s content!”

 

“I suppose.  Although that’s a very big commitment.  I don’t know if I’m ready to take this next step.”  
  
“Can you see yourself waking up to his pale face for the rest of your life?  Well, I’d say that smile says it all.  You’re just merely… speeding up the inevitable.  And it’s not as if you’re the first of the group to be producing offspring.  We’re surrounded by pregnant witches and screaming babies, in case you’ve not noticed.”

 

“’Mione, remember how Fred and George gave Bill the turn-around whenever Fleur was craving sweets?  And this is Bill we’re talking about.  I’m _sure_ Fred and George will make it that much worse for Malfoy when the time comes.  And don’t forget how devious Ginny can be.”

 

“Harry, are you actually telling me you’re all right with me carrying Draco’s baby and being bound to him for life?”

 

“Yes, I guess.  He’s not a bad bloke, once you get to know him—though I’ll deny it if you tell him.”

 

“Well, it’s settled, then.  Hermione, love, you’ve got twenty-two days to ensure you’ll be carrying the Malfoy heir by the end of the month.  I would suggest a Fertility Potion.  You’ll also need to catch Draco unawares so that he doesn’t manage to cast the Contraception Charm and decrease your chances.”

 

“No difficulties there: I’ve been taking both non-magical and magical forms of a contraception potion ever since we… because I know I can’t depend on him to be the responsible one.”

 

“That certainly simplifies matters.  Just make sure you follow the instructions for the Fertility Potion exactly.  The timing needs to be very precise because you’ve only one shot at this if you want him to forgo his plans.”

 

“I will.  And meanwhile, could you start thinking up revenge plots?  Sky’s the limit.”

 

***

 

Narcissa made sure that Draco was not around before breaking into the first true smile to grace her face in months and months.  The boy had a long ways to go if he thought he could out-Slytherin his mum.  She felt a momentary twinge of regret that she would have to give up her plans for a lavish wedding, but that was quickly dismissed when she thought of the happiness he was assured.  Having thus indulged in sentiment, Narcissa began to move about briskly.  It was time for her to recite her carefully-rehearsed speech to Lucius.

 

 

******************************

_Original prompt:_

_Main Course Pairing: Draco/Hermione_  
 _With a side order of: Harry/Blaise OR Harry/Pansy_  
  
 _Prompt: With her husband insisting that 2012 has been the "Year of the Draco" all year, it's has been a long-suffering one for Hermione. When she realizes 2013 will be the year of the Snake, what's a Gryffindor to do with a Slytherin mate who's already full of himself?_


	7. For Ook #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pairing: draco/hermione

It was the first day of her vacation and Hermione was already restless.

 

She hadn’t wanted to take vacation.  There was still so much in her inbox.  But her department head had insisted.  She’d told Hermione that it was hard to find competent, efficient workers, so she didn’t want hers to burn out too quickly.  And besides, Hermione’d only started working at the Ministry for a few months; she had the rest of her life to build her career.  There was no need to accomplish everything so soon.

 

Hermione sighed.  She knew that Edith was right, that she _did_ have a tendency of working too-long hours when she was in work mode.  Already, she’d been sent home twice because she had worked non-stop over two days to meet a deadline for the team. 

 

Still, not having planned for vacation at this time, she did not have anything lined up to do—no scheduled luncheons with her (somewhat neglected) friends, no visits with her parents, nothing.  And Hermione wasn’t the type who could sit at home for a week and “relax”. 

 

An owl tapped on the window.  Oh!  A note from Susan that she would be off her shift at St. Mungo’s by noon.  They could meet for lunch in Diagon Alley and then go for a tour of a factory that Susan was sure Hermione had never been but would love.

 

Grinning, Hermione wrote a note to accept and sent the owl off.

 

***

 

Hermione stared around her in speechless awe.  True to her word, Susan had brought her to the perfect place.  It was the Parchment Factory that supplied the entire wizarding world’s endless demand for parchment.  Hermione breathed the smell in and sighed in contentment.

 

“C’mon, Hermione, don’t just stand there!  I’ve asked if one of the floor managers can bring us around to see how things are done.”

 

“Susan, have you been here before?”

 

“Yes, when I was very little.  My aunt Amelia brought me.  The current owner was a Housemate.  Her family has been in this business for generations.”

 

The floor manager was a cheerful man, short and bald.  As he explained the procedures and how each machine contributed to the making of the final product, Hermione marvelled that her jaw was still properly hinged.   She had vague memories of going to the museum and learning about paper-making in ancient China and how that technique eventually made its way to Europe.  It was interesting how the ability to use magic had essentially preserved the old technique while non-magical people had had to find ways to improve and make the process more efficient and, as a result, produce a more sophisticated form of writing material.  Thoughts on modern papermaking naturally brought up the issue of environmental costs, and Hermione wistfully noted that the magical technique did not produce any harmful byproducts that could not be reused, whether by the factory or some other manufacturing company.

 

At the end of the tour, the chatty floor manager brought them into the small retail area that was opened to the public, telling them that they could take a free sample of any type of parchment on display; any pieces they wanted to stock up on would be sold to them with an employee discount.  Hermione and Susan thanked him warmly for his time and generosity and spent the next several minutes looking through the inventory.

 

After they exited the shop, Hermione thanked Susan profusely for a wonderful afternoon.  Susan brushed it off and wrangled a promise that Hermione would have dinner with her and Ron sometime during her vacation—it was unfortunate that Ron was in training until midweek. 

 

***

 

Having finalized arrangements for dinner with her parents, with Harry, with Ron and Susan, and with her other friends the night before, Hermione woke up and realized that she could do what she had been putting off for the past few months: buy a new wand.

 

Her wand had never been recovered after The Battle of Hogwarts and Bellatrix’s wand was a daily reminder of what she had suffered under the mad witch’s hands as well as other painful memories that she was still struggling to put away.  The wizarding world was still recovering from the devastation, and Hermione was determined that she would not give up hope that people had learned their lesson and would want to re-build their world into a better one.

 

Walking the familiar path along Diagon Alley the second day in a row, she was excited as she arrived at Ollivander’s. 

 

Stepping into the quiet store brought back a flood of memories of her first time in it.  And in spite all that had happened since, she felt a great sense of comfort to see that Mr. Ollivander had restored the place so that it looked exactly as it used to. 

 

Hermione had just greeted Mr. Ollivander and explained the reason for her visit when the bell above the door jingled.  Turning around, Hermione was shocked into immobility to see Draco Malfoy walk in.

 

Malfoy paused, uncertain, in the open doorway.  He made to leave but was prevented by Mr. Ollivander’s invitation for him to step inside. 

 

“It has been so quiet recently that it is wonderful to have customers.  You have come at the right time.  In another two weeks, parents will start bringing their children to purchase their wands for their first term at Hogwarts.  I have been very diligently building my supply of available wands in anticipation.  It is wonderful that Hogwarts has continued its grand tradition of educating new generations in spite of the on-going repairs to the castle.  Now, no more of this idle chatter from an old man.  We have wands to become acquainted with.”

 

Hermione grinned, in spite the awkward situation.  Mr. Ollivander had recovered from his ordeal during Voldemort’s Second Rising and it seemed that his experience had brought him out of himself more.  She did not remember him being this chatty, but she liked it.  It made him more approachable.

 

And finally deciding that she needed to be the better person, Hermione turned to Malfoy and inquired after his health. 

 

Malfoy was surprised by her polite inquiry and returned an equally polite response as well as a hope that she, too, was well.  But then, as if he couldn’t stop himself, he also blurted, “I… never thanked you for your help during the trials.  I was sure I would be spending the next few years in Azkaban.  So… thank you.”

 

Hermione smiled.  “You’re welcome.”

 

Further attempts at conversation were interrupted by Mr. Ollivander’s reappearance.  Tucked under his arms were several familiar-looking, long and narrow boxes.  “Now, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, I thought it best to start with wands similar to the ones that had originally chosen to be your magic conduits.  As you know, even wands with the same types of wood and core are never identical to one another.  And given that both of you are at a different… chapter of life, I thought it wise to also find wands with different cores for you to try.  Now, these are the vine wands, Miss Granger, and these the hawthorn ones, Mr. Malfoy.  Please, try.”

 

Hermione was disappointed when she got to the end of the neat line of boxes and had not found her new wand.  It seemed that the war had brought about enough of a change in her that a simple replacement of her old wand was not possible.  She noticed that Malfoy was having the same problem and was equally unhappy.

 

Mr. Ollivander was the only one unperturbed.  There was almost a spring in his step as he disappeared again among the shelves in search of wands. 

 

“So, Granger… how have you occupied yourself lately?”

 

“Oh… well, I’m on vacation this week, which is why I’m here.  I’m working in the Muggle Relations office—have been for six months.  I—I like it.  Work is busy.  And I get to spend a lot of time in Muggle London in meetings with the Muggle Ministry; it gives me more chances to spend time with my parents because I usually stay overnight.  What about you?”

 

“I completed my one year of house arrest yesterday, so I decided to stretch my legs a bit.”

 

“Oh.”  Hermione blushed, having forgotten about Malfoy’s sentence.

 

Draco eyed her and said quietly, “I’m grateful that I got off with such a light sentence.  The Wizengamot could very easily have made an example of me… of all of the Dark Lord’s minions.  If he’d been victorious, I’m sure I’d be rotting away somewhere, begging for death.”

 

Hermione found that she had no words.  Any of comfort or assuagement sounded lame and cliched, even in her mind.  Desperate to not prolong the silence, she finally settled on congratulating him on his release.  Malfoy gave a ghost of a smile and a small nod.

 

“Ah, here we are.  I have found a variety of wands that will hopefully have among them the most suitable.  Now, Miss Granger, this is Black Walnut containing a phoenix feather.  No?  Try the Elm and unicorn hair, then.  How are you faring, Mr. Malfoy?  The Pine and dragon heartstring and Silver Lime and phoenix feather not matches, I see.  Oh, a glow on the tip of the Red Oak!  I’d surmised correctly, then.  It seems that a unicorn core is still the preference.   The next few all contain the same core but with different woods.  And Miss Granger, you noticed a glow as well with the Pear?  And a tremor with the Alder!  Excellent, excellent!  You, too, are still well-matched with a heartstring core.  Try the remaining ones, please.”

 

Neither the Poplar nor Willow wands produced the desired effect.  Mr. Ollivander disappeared.

 

Not having anything else to do, Hermione turned her attention to Malfoy.  He had put down the third-last wand in the line, disappointment evident. 

 

“No luck, Malfoy?  What type of wand was the last one?”

 

A disembodied voice spoke from within the box.  “Walnut wood and unicorn hair.  Ten-and-a-half inches.”

 

Hermione giggled and touched the second-last box.  “What about this one?”

 

“Hazel wood and unicorn hair.  Ten inches,” was the reply.  Malfoy waved the wand and sucked in a sharp breath.  The wand vibrated gently.

 

“Ah, a much closer match than the others, then, Mr. Malfoy.  Very good.  Does it feel warm or cool to the touch?”

 

“Cool.”

 

“Ah, so still not close enough.  The last one is Larch wood and unicorn hair.  Ten inches.  Fairly bendy.”

 

Malfoy gasped as he swirled the wand.  Green and silver sparks burst from the tip and dispersed about the store like small fireworks.  Malfoy’s face broke into the first grin Hermione had seen on his face in a long time.  She couldn’t suppress a responding grin.

 

“Oh, excellent!  Perhaps you would like to try a few—safe—spells to test the wand further, Mr. Malfoy?  Ms. Granger, I have a few more choices here.  This first one is Cedar wood and dragon heartstring.  Eleven inches and slightly springy.”

 

The wand warmed immediately to Hermione’s touch.  And knowing what next to expect, she grinned when she saw the red and gold sparks emit from the wand’s tip.  At last! 

 

“Oh, wonderful!  I’m so pleased we were able to find a match so quickly, Ms. Granger.  It took longer during the previous session.  Would you also try a few spells?  And Mr. Malfoy, how does the wand feel?  Oh, very good, I’m so pleased to hear.  Shall I wrap it for you?  Of course, let me wrap Mrs. Malfoy’s wand in the box, then.  That will be five Galleons, please.”

 

The wand carefully placed in a holster by his right hip and the box tucked in the crook of his arm, Malfoy nodded to Hermione before heading out the door.  Hermione felt a sudden inexplicable sense of bereftment.  But shaking off the feeling, she affirmed that the wand was responding as well as her Vine one had and paid the requisite five Galleons before smiling her thanks and exiting the shop. 

 

***

 

Hermione had just settled into her favourite reading chair, her hot tea on the coffee table beside her, when Ron’s head popped in the middle of her fireplace.

 

“’Mione, are you busy?  I really need your help!”

 

Hermione sighed but asked what he needed.  Given that he hadn’t simply barged in, it was nothing as dire as life-and-death.  Ron sheepishly explained that Bill had begged his family to help him go in search of unusual types of chocolate because Fleur’s pregnancy cravings were driving him distracted.  Ron thought that Hermione’s vast knowledge and good taste would be of immense help in narrowing down what Fleur might like.  Hermione chuckled in spite herself.  Well, it wasn’t as if she’d never read _The Count of Monte Cristo_.

 

After visiting the chocolatier in Diagon Alley and purchasing a selection, Hermione brought Ron into Muggle London and to the shops she remembered were well-known for their chocolates: Prestat, Maison du Chocolate, and Rococo.  Hermione teased Ron mercilessly at his discomfiture taking public transit and being pushed and shoved by the crowds on the streets.  Ron kept mumbling that he was glad _their_ world was being kept secret—he would never get used to being among so many strangers.  And during their visits to the chocolatiers, Hermione wondered in amusement if _Ron_ wasn’t the one with the chocolate craving and was merely using Fleur as an excuse.   

 

Having thus spent a rare afternoon with her best friend, Hermione was happy and relieved to find that any lingering awkwardness from their break-up almost one year ago was completely gone.  It was true that their brief romance had not gotten very far nor lasted very long, but it had taken both of them some time to return to the old camaraderie.  Hermione was very glad that Ron had soon after found Susan, whom she felt was a much more suitable girlfriend than herself.  She smiled to herself as she realized that even the twinge that she used to feel when she thought that thought was gone. 

 

Hermione had been too immersed in her job to have much of a social life or a new romance.  She idly wondered if she would be able to juggle the demands of her job and a new relationship if that were to occur.

 

***

 

Hermione found that her visit to Diagon Alley different from her experience the day before.  Having travelled about central London, even only to three specific locations, she felt a sense of claustrophobia as she walked the cobbled street.  The wizarding world, as represented here, was simply much smaller than the non-magical metropolis.  She decided then and there that she would move out of her rented flat once her lease was up and find a place further away.  Surely, if 12 Grimmauld Place could exist in the middle of Muggle London, there _had_ to be other pocket magical communities within the Greater London area.  She would start asking around the office next week when she returned to work.

 

Thus decided, Hermione turned her attention to the day’s plan.  It was to be one of sheer indulgence: she was going bookshop browsing.  She would first look in at Obscurus Books and Whizz Hard Books and then the two second-hand bookshops nearby.  She was not looking for anything in particular, but she wanted to find new reading material on more obscure topics—anything that piqued her curiosity.  She would save Flourish and Blotts for last. 

 

She was browsing the tiny section on Arithmancy books inside Whizz Hard’s when she felt someone bump against her shoulder.  Turning around, she was surprised to see Draco Malfoy.

 

“Hello, Malfoy.”

 

“Granger.”

 

“What are you looking for?”

 

“Well, given that this is a book publisher’s shop, I’d say the answer was obvious, but just in case you contracted a case of Weasel germs, let me elucidate: books.” 

 

“Hmph.  You’ll be surprised: Ron’s older brothers Bill and Percy are quite well-read, so you’re off your mark if you want to be insulting.”

 

“Oh?  Well, I do beg pardon.  Good to know that you are able to have a real conversation whenever you visit their… house.”

 

“They are certainly more pleasant than the combination of all the so-called conversations the two of us had during our time at Hogwarts.”

 

“ _Touché!_   Five points to Gryffindor.  You know, having read Wenlock’s books, I found that her original text was better at explaining her research findings than the so-called revised edition.  You’re not going to find the original here, though.  Ifanwy’s across the street would be the best place to search.”

 

Clearly understanding a reader’s need to be alone when browsing, Malfoy nodded and moved onto a different shelf.  Hermione continued looking but couldn’t help but be very aware of where he was at all times.  When she left Whizz Hard’s, she did as he suggested and went across to Ifanwy’s.  The kindly owner pointed her in the right direction of the requested book, and Hermione lost track of time as she did her best to peruse the confusion of floor-to-ceiling lines and stacks of books. 

 

She found her path criss-crossing Malfoy’s as she continued her quest to visit every bookshop in Diagon Alley.  Of course, she couldn’t resist stepping quickly into Scribbulus’ and Quiller’s on the way, and she noticed Malfoy disappearing into “Weezies” and QQS. 

 

Inevitably, they both found themselves ensconced in the same section inside Flourish and Blotts. 

 

“What a small world, Granger.  If this was Hogwarts, I would have to accuse you of following me.”

 

“I could accuse you of the same, Malfoy.  But you are absolutely right that the wizarding community is, indeed, very small.  If I was in Muggle London, I could never hope to browse every bookshop in the city within a day.  I’ve spent a day in one of the larger bookshops near my parent’s house, and I only just managed to browse the sections that I was interested in.”

 

“And did you come away with as many books that time as you have today?”

 

“No.”

 

“Ah, then there’s something to be said for small and select and quality versus quantity.”

 

“Only to a certain degree.  Some of the non-magical bookshops are quite specialized, so it depends on where you look.”

 

“Well, perhaps I should have a look for myself one of these days.”

 

Hermione gaped at him.  She never thought she’d hear Draco Malfoy, pure-blood scion of one of the oldest—snobby and prejudiced as well—wizarding families express interest in visiting a non-magical shop.

 

“Oh come, Granger, surely you don’t think that you’re the only one who has been changed by the recent war.”  He paused and, in a more solemn and quiet tone, he continued.  “One year is a long time to be trapped within the confines of a house that stopped being a home for a few years.  The memories that still… Anyway, I’ve had a lot of time to think during my confinement.”

 

He looked as if he wanted to say more but was afraid to do so.

 

Impulsively, Hermione asked, “Why don’t we browse for another half-hour or so and then go to Fortescue’s?” 

 

She felt herself blush when he grinned.

 

***

 

While enjoying their ice creams, Hermione and Malfoy had purposely kept the conversation light.  They were listing their favourite hexes and jinxes when Hermione felt that disturbing prickling of the hairs on the back of her neck.  A moment later, Ron and Susan’s flabbergasted faces swam into her peripheral vision. 

 

“Hi Susan, Hi Ron!  What are you two doing here?”

 

“Ron was helping Bill buy more chocolate truffles but accidentally dropped them—”

 

“Galleons down the sewer—”

 

“—and they rolled all over the street and have been commandeered by the rats and other small feral creatures.  Hello, you’re Draco Malfoy, aren’t you?  I’m—”

 

“Susan Bones.  I remember.  Weasley.”

 

“Malfoy.”

 

“Er, well, we saw you, Hermione, and thought we’d come over to say ‘Hello’.  Um, Ron and I should go and restock on those truffles.  Poor Fleur has been crying for the past hour.  So, we’ll see you around.  Nice seeing you again, Malfoy.”

 

“You as well.  Have a good afternoon.”

 

An uncomfortable silence settled after Ron and Susan left.  Hermione stared intently at her ice cream—if she didn’t, she knew she’d be staring at Malfoy like an idiot. 

 

“Surprised the Slytherin prat didn’t skive on his etiquette lessons, Granger?  Or should I be insulted that you think my mother was raised by Giants?”

 

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth and nose when a loud snort emitted from her.  She looked at him and tried to frown.  He had on his characteristic smirk, although it lacked the typical overtones of mockery.

 

“I’d always assumed that you were a changeling your parents were saddled with.”

 

“Oh, did you?  And what sort of creature should I be if I’m not human?”

 

“Troll.”

 

“You know, if you were born into a pure-blood family, you’d be even more insufferable than Pansy and Millicent combined.”

 

“Aw, did they pick on the poor, hapless, innocent little ferret?”

 

“Hey!  At least I could hold my own.  I bet if you weren’t there to remind them how to put one foot in front of the other, those two dimwits you call your best friends would’ve fallen from the moving stairs at Hogwarts and cracked their skulls.”

 

“As if your two henchmen were such scintillating company.”

 

Malfoy burst into laughter.  “ _Touché!_   I see I shall have to sharpen my sparring skills if I’m to spend any more time with you.”

 

“Did the great Draco Malfoy just admit to being beaten by a mere girl from Gryffindor?”

 

“The great Draco Malfoy’s mother conditioned him to never fight with girls.  It’s the only reason he didn’t retaliate when he was beaten up by a certain Gryffindoress in Third.”

 

“Oh really?  And I would hardly call a slap across the face as ‘being beaten up’.  Unless, of course, Slytherin prats are such delicate creatures that they deserve an entry in the worldwide ‘endangered species’ list.  Or better yet, labels should be made and adhered to their persons: ‘delicate, please handle with care’.”

 

“Ha-ha.  Then Gryffindors should all be labelled with the quadruple ‘X’ that _Fantastic Beasts_ uses to denote dangerous creatures.”

 

“We shall all wear those as badges of pride because they confer skill, unlike the bully ones a certain Squad bandied around so proudly one year.”

 

“Oh Merlin!  I forgot about those!  But you got her back right and proper with that ForbiddenForest trick.  Medusa’s twat!  That seems like so long ago.”

 

“Yes, it does.  And to think we used to fret over grades and House points.”

 

“Yes, well, it hasn’t all been darkness and despair since.  We got rid of a madman.  Those who fought on the wrong side were given mercy where they expected condemnation...”

 

“And the rest of us were set free to trade insults over ice cream.”

 

“Quite.”

 

***

 

Hermione did not feel like getting out of bed.  As she lay tangled in her sheets, she marvelled at how quickly her week off had passed.  Yes, while technically she still had the weekend ahead, she had promised it to her parents, with the only interruption being the tradition for brunch at The Burrow on Sunday.  Molly had insisted—even blackmailed—her family, which included Harry and Hermione, come home once a week to spend quality time together.  She tolerated no excuses. 

 

When Hermione finally forced herself out of bed, she spent the morning doing a bit of tidying up around her flat.  She had arranged to have lunch with Harry and Ginny; it was rare that all three of them had the same day off, and while Hermione had been reluctant to be a third wheel, Ginny had nagged until she agreed.  Ginny was going to be as formidable as her mother one day.  Hermione giggled and hoped that Harry knew what he was getting into.

 

Promptly at noon, Hermione walked through the door of the café and found a nice corner table for three on the patio.  Harry and Ginny arrived while she was looking through the menu. 

 

“So, ’Mione, what’s this I heard about you going out on a date with Malfoy?”  Ginny, as always, never wasted her time on inane pleasantries.

 

“Ginny, how lovely to see you!  It must’ve been three weeks since we had lunch when you dropped by the office unannounced?  And it’s been less than a week since we had breakfast together at The Burrow.  And Harry, how is Auror training?  Your bruise has faded, which is a good sign.  I hope you haven’t acquired new ones in places not currently obvious.”

 

“You’re not getting out of this, ’Mione!  Tell me everything or I swear I’ll wait to ask on Sunday in front of the whole clan.”

 

“Mercy!  It wasn’t a date.  We bumped into each other while book browsing, were able to hold a civil conversation, and just decided to share a table at Fortescue’s.”

 

“According to Susan, you two looked much more friendly than two people having a civil conversation.”

 

“Susan is merely projecting.  She’s in a new romance with Ron and is seeing things through tinted spectacles.”

 

“Fine.  What did you civilly discuss?”

 

“Books.  Hexes and jinxes.  Oh, and Ministry politics.”

 

“Well, either Fortescue spiked your ice creams or you must have been discussing some very interesting books and spells because Susan said you were laughing.”

 

“I was laughing at his prattish behaviour in school.”  
  
“And he let you?”

 

“The war’s changed all of us.  We’ve had to grow up.  And the only way to let go of the past is to forgive the hurts we suffered.  And forgive those who caused it.”

 

Hermione paused and realized the truth of that last statement.  Yes, she had forgiven Malfoy, and it had been easy.  She marvelled at it.

 

“Earth to Hermione.  I can’t believe I’m witnessing my best friend daydreaming about Draco Malfoy.  And I thought that the goofy looks shared with Ron were bad.”

 

“Well, Harry James Potter, I’m quite sure that Ron would say that you’re now even.  You _snogged_ his baby sister right in front of him!  At least we were more discreet with our displays of affection.”

 

“My brother’s such a prude.  Although I think Susan’s slowly curing him of that.  I caught them in the most interesting position the other day.”

 

“Maybe this is the push Ron needs to find a place of his own.”

 

“He can always just move in with Susan.”

 

“True!  We should have a chat with him on Sunday.”

 

“Speaking of Sunday, are we going to be expecting you and a ‘guest’?”

 

“Ginny, we were just hanging out.”

 

“Do you want to continue hanging out with him?  Aha, a blush!”

 

“I—well—I don’t know.  He’s surprisingly easy to talk to when he doesn’t feel like he has to put up a front.  But it really doesn’t mean anything!”

 

“Not unless you want it to.”

 

“You know, ’Mione, if you’re worried about starting a whole new Gryffindor versus Slytherin conflict, don’t.  I’m not saying that I consider him anything more than some bloke from school that I didn’t particularly get along with, but you’re right about how we’ve all had to grow up.  And watching what he went through that night on the AstronomyTower… in a way that I’m only starting to think about now in retrospect, I understand.  I mean, I understood instinctively, but I’m only just now putting it into words, you know?  He had to do everything he could to protect those he loved, and that’s not any different from what I’ve been trying to do.  I guess that’s why I felt compelled to speak on his behalf during the trials.”

 

“Wow, Harry, that’s quite a speech!  But I get what you’re hinting at, and while I think you’re all thinking much too prematurely about something that’s not even there, I appreciate the support, I guess.”

 

“And you know that I can make him suffer a slow and torturous death and then hide the body without anyone being any wiser.”

 

“Is that what they’re teaching you in Auror training?  Good to know.  I’ll make sure I don’t cross you.”

 

“Ha!  As if Hermione Granger has need to fear Harry Potter.  Ever.”

 

“True!  I have extractable memories of very cute and un-Saviour-appropriate pants that I’m sure the _Prophet_ would pay a fortune to acquire.”

 

“’Mione!  We said we wouldn’t talk about that again!”

 

“Hey!  How come _I’ve_ never heard about these pants?  I’m going over to Grimmauld Place after lunch and doing a thorough search!”

 

“Thanks a lot, ’Mione.”

 

“What are friends for?”

 

***

 

Hermione woke up Monday morning ready to dive back into work.  She hoped that her inbox hadn’t overflowed in her absence.

 

But as she prepared breakfast, a small, nagging voice reminded her that she was entitled to another week of vacation.  And wouldn’t it be fun to have someone to go bookshop-hopping with across London?

 

She smiled.

 

 

*********************************

_Original prompt:_

_Pairing: Draco/Hermione_  
 _Sides: Ron/Susan, George/Luna, Padma/Percy, Cormac/Ginny – take your pick :)_  
  
 _Wand shopping_  
 _Galleons down the sewer_  
 _Tour of the Parchment Factory_  
 _Chocolate cravings_


	8. For DHLane: alternate ending

Hermione felt as if someone had cast a Full Body-Bind on her.

She had been confused and frustrated when Malfoy had not turned up for work and had not bothered to let her know. He did not answer any of her owls nor her Floo-call. She’d even sent an email on the off-chance that he was playing hooky for some reason.

But she had not expected this.

She felt Andromeda’s hands clasp hers and ask her repeatedly if she was all right. She couldn’t respond. It was taking every ounce of effort to not collapse, so she had no energy left for conversation. She was vaguely aware of a pair of strong arms supporting her into a standing position. Those same arms made sure she returned safely to her flat. Soothing words reamed somewhere overhead, inconsequential things about food and sleep and vacation days from work. 

She was finally brought out of her stupefaction by a loud purring. Cuddling her beloved Crookshanks, Hermione wept.

*** 

Hermione felt as if her heart was ready to give out. It had never hurt this badly even after she had cast the Memory Charm on her parents and saw them staring back at her as if she was a complete stranger; or after she thought Harry was dead during the Battle of Hogwarts; or after she saw the unmoving bodies of so many familiar faces lined up side-by-side in the Great Hall; or even after she finally saw the pale, frozen features of Ron, his eyes closed, his hair and clothes covered in dirt and grime. She had broken down completely at the sight of Ron’s body among the rest. But she had not wanted to die then, not like she did now.

The Healer had finally answered all her questions about what had happened to Malfoy when she’d admitted that she was in love with him. She had seen that glimmer of hope in his eyes even as her own had died, bit by bit, as he told her about the Dark spell Malfoy had cast on himself and the unusual but not impossible consequence that had landed him on the permanent ward. He told her that the piece of Malfoy’s heart that had been ripped from him was being carefully preserved by Mungo’s staff; he even bracingly commented that it was a good thing that Malfoy was such an adept wizard, to have made sure that the precious piece of his heart would be automatically sealed into a glass vial and thus was as viable as it could be under circumstances. The Healer’s tone only faltered when he admitted that they had yet to figure out a counter-spell that would revive the patient.

The Healer must have sensed that she was not to be trusted to be alone; he made arrangements for her to remain overnight in the guest quarters of the ward. He also made sure that the nightshift Healer or one of the staff checked on her every hour. She did not sleep a wink that night.

The following morning, she received a slew of visitors. Harry brought her worried parents, who insisted on staying. Weasleys came and went; Molly had fussed and fretted, the twins had tried everything to make her smile, and even Percy had said some kind words about Malfoy’s work ethic. It was Ginny’s whispered support that finally evoked a response from her. 

But it was Luna who gave her back her will to live. Yes, Luna was right, she needed to find the counter-spell. She had to believe that her love would be enough to restore him to health.

*** 

Flannery-Jones turned out even more supportive and sympathetic than Hermione dared hope when she requested the leave of absence. Her Head assured her that she could take as long as she needed to find the solution and even encouraged her to come into the office when she needed so that she could have full access to the Archives. 

Hermione spent a good two weeks consulting obscure tomes and with the Healers at Mungo’s. She was mindful of Malfoy’s main Healer’s warning to make sure that she was at optimal health herself, otherwise, she was of little use to him when the time came to perform the counter-spell. It was this optimism that also supported her through the frustrations of dead ends, unavailable information, and false leads. Luna became her anchor on days when nothing seemed to make any sense; the Ravenclaw’s unconventional views were just the fresh perspective that Hermione needed when it seemed her own reasoning was going against her.

Finally, it was decided that it was worth the risk for Hermione to try the most difficult form of Legilimency. If she succeeded, she would not only be able to access Malfoy’s mind but also have him guide her through his memories to find out the wherefores and wherebys of his actions. 

*** 

Hermione’s cheeks were wet with tears as she re-emerged from the Pensieve. She had found Malfoy’s chest of memory vials. And after viewing them, she wanted to simultaneously comfort him and strangle him for being such a git. Why was she always falling for such knobs? There had to be something wrong with her.

Returning the memories to the vials, she knew that she would somehow have to replant them into Malfoy’s mind, to remind him of why he had cast the spell and to hopefully explain why she was trying to revive him. 

Why. Yes, she would have to tell him why. And that would involve a very big confession that would leave her very vulnerable. If he didn’t recover, if he subconsciously rejected her… but no, she could not think like this. She had to be strong for both of them.

*** 

The solution, when she finally figured it out (for a counter-spell did not exist, so she had to create one), turned out simpler than she expected. With the aid of a cauldron of Amortentia to stimulate his sense of smell, she needed to plant a transfigured copy of the strongest memory she had that proved her love for him into the hole he had made in his heart. This memory clone was linked through the Protean Charm to a second that was wrapped around the severed piece of heart, which Hermione had implanted into a small crevice beside her heart. The third and final memory clone was implanted into Malfoy’s mind, to mingle with all his others, restored and pre-existing. 

Hermione’s surges of affection toward Malfoy would be channelled through these clones to reinforce them and the two embedded inside Malfoy would alert her to moments of insecurity and doubt regarding her true feelings for him, thus giving her warning to find some means of reassuring him.

With the counter-spell completed, the Healers were able to devise strategies to help Malfoy regain full consciousness. Hermione visited him every day, often spending several hours before reluctantly leaving to snatch a few hours of sleep and returning to work the following day. 

Her persistent belief in his ability to recover was rewarded on the day Malfoy’s eyes finally fluttered open and she saw proof of his own affections for her shining in them. 

The Healers kept Malfoy for another week before releasing him, satisfied with his restored health. 

Hermione made sure to request a vacation day so that she could walk with him out of Mungo’s. She told him that she had booked reservations at the French restaurant in Muggle London where they had shared a meal on Spring Equinox the previous year. Afterwards, if he felt up for it, they could go to the cinema. There was a long list of movies that he would not have seen trailers for.

Malfoy smiled and kissed her.


	9. For mihnn #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pairing: Draco/Hermione

Draco had heard the rumour first from Goyle and had, therefore, dismissed it. But when he overheard the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor prefects whispering about it, his curiosity was piqued.

Hermione Granger, teacher's pet and swotty know-it-all, had been volunteering in the school library, helping the vulture Pince reorganize the shelves—the library had sustained some damages from The Battle of Hogwarts. 

The bossy, bushy-haired Gryffindor had also taken to wearing short, swishy skirts that emphasized a pair of fine legs. All the hot-blooded wizards (and a few witches!) with any imagination had noticed. Draco had most certainly noticed. He had been slack-jawed with disbelief when she debuted the first of a line of them in the Great Hall at breakfast one fine, autumn morning. 

Since then, every wizard had been attempting a peek at the pert derriere that was suggested by said sexy garments. And what better, easier way to do so than when the bossy Head Girl was up the ladders in the library shelving books?

Unfortunately, no one had yet been successful at peeping. There were grumbles and growls of a spell that caused the perpetrator to see a flash of his mother's, grandmother's, sister's, or girlfriend's disapproving face. From what Draco could gather, the face that appeared usually belonged to the witch whom the perpetrator most feared. This, of course, piqued the Slytherin's interest even more. A Boggart-like charm—it just had to be! He had so far failed to find the spell itself in any of the reference texts, never mind a counterspell. 

Perhaps he should stop wasting time and simply take the risk. After all, the woman he most feared—his crazy aunt Bella—was most certainly dead. 

Sauntering into the library after dinner with the pretense of doing research for a Transfiguration essay, Draco occupied one of the carrels by the Restricted Section and waited for an opportunity.

Said chance arrived within a half-hour. Granger, with an armload of books, made her way toward the aisle that held Potions texts. Draco followed and saw her magically summon one of the nearby ladders. 

Pretending to not notice her, Draco browsed the shelves and occasionally grabbed hold of books at random to flip through, only to put them back in a huff. He repeated the motions, getting closer and closer to the ladder each time. When he finally arrived and had positioned himself at the right angle, he looked up. And stared.

Hermione Granger's pert arse was clad in a pair of silky, Slytherin-green knickers!

Her "ahem" brought him out of his stasis. She slowly descended, making sure, all the while, that he had an unobstructed view up her skirt. When she was on the ground again, she grabbed hold of his tie, yanked him down for a quick, bruising kiss, and then gave him a saucy wink before heading down the aisle and disappearing from view.

_Agrippa's auburn arse! The minx!_

Draco hurriedly followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALTERNATE ENDING: As Draco rounded the corner, a pile of rocks fell on him and crushed him to death.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _new prompt from mihnn: Draco wants to look up Hermione's skirt for some reason._
> 
>  
> 
> _A/N: another friend wanted a sad ending, so..._


End file.
